Playing Games
by sillysac
Summary: A continuation of Rock Steady... Clary and Jace continue to develop their relationship, but when a new Shadowhunter enters the picture, things become complicated.
1. Devil in her heart

_An: This is a continuation of Rock Steady, my short little 3 chapter story set around Clary's 18th birthday. If you haven't read it, please do. But it isn't necessary pre-reading.  
_

_Also, this was originally written in 2009, long before Cassie decided to extend the series to 6 books. So the facts in this story are based off the ending of City of Glass and, thus, making this an alternate universe. Please enjoy, if you decide to read on, since it is a finished story!_

_Oh yes, Disclaimer: I don't own anything Mortal Instruments._

* * *

Clary could smell it before she could see anything distinctive. It was the smell of rotting flesh, strong and bitter in her nose. She held up her witchlight, trying to see exactly where the demon was. There was a flicker of something white moving through the trees, and if Clary hadn't seen its kind before, she would have been startled by its appearance. The toad-like eyes and pale, burnt looking skin was enough for Clary to indentify the creature—a Raum Demon.

She heard Jace curse loudly beside her as a second, then third demon began to wither its way towards the two of them. Clary was the first to pull out her seraph blade and name it "_Israfiel," _quietly. Jace followed suit, calling his _Nakir._ They were ready, more prepared than usual, but the memory of her last encounter with a Raum demon was enough to send a wave of shivers down her spine.

Its tentacle arms bothered her the most. Clary moved her left hand instinctively to her neck, the ghost of a memory when another's red-tipped tentacles had wrapped themselves around her throat, the needle sharp teeth trying to tear at her soft skin. But she dropped her hand quickly, reassuring herself that she was well prepared for this, and she was with Jace. _Fighting to him was like sex to other people,_ she remembered thinking. Her cheeks flushed momentarily, thinking about what sex actually was like with him.

She shot a quick glance over at Jace, taking in his steady appearance. He didn't look like he was ready for sex; he looked ready for a fight. His runes stuck out in bright contract to his caramel skin, and his arms were tensed, showing off his adult muscles. Clary was momentarily awed by the slow transformation his body had taken over the last two years. He no longer looked like a teenager, as he shouldn't, he really did look like a man. There was even a slight five o'clock shadow on his face, something that had taken the last two years for Clary to notice. She didn't mind.

The demons started advancing faster, removing the thoughts from her mind. She would _not _let herself think about Jace in any way other than her fighting partner right now. Their circular opening, their mouth, was making an odd sort of sucking noise, like they were breathing heavily. Clary raised her blade, much the same way Jace had already raised his. Instinctively, they stood back to back, making the most of their eye sight, so they could see all three Raum demons.

Clary's grip on Israfiel tightened as she prepared to strike, and she could feel the strength of her marks burning on her fair skin. She was still fairly new to fighting demons, with only two full years of training, but the training she had was sufficient. Clary knew the best way to kill the majority of the common demons, having had enough pre-training experience to know what to do.

So when the first demon lunged, tentacles first, it was almost too easy for Clary to side step, drawing one graceful arch into the air before swiping off both of its arms. It screeched, oozing black ichor from its wounds, but made another move at Clary just as the other two Raum demons began their offensive strike at Jace. She made quick work of the first one, without its tentacle arms it was basically useless, and watched as it quickly shrank into itself, disappearing into nothing.

Jace had moved from her side, though, leaving her back exposed, and didn't react fast enough before the familiar feeling of being strangled by those horrible red suckers reached her skin. Clary fell backwards, and could feel herself being dragged along the rock infested ground. Without her Shadowhunter clothes, her clothing would have been frayed to bits, leaving her skin exposed, easily shredded. Instead, the leathery fabric held, allowing Clary to focus on freeing herself. Her seraph blade was still gripped tightly in her fingers, her only life line. Using her free hand, while still being dragged along the ground, Clary used her blade to quickly cut off the tentacle. The demon screamed much like the first, but lashed out at Clary a second time, it's tiny, needle-like teeth slicing a long cut down the side of her face. Blood partially blocked her vision, but Clary swiped it away with her left hand, bringing her right one up with her blade.

The Raum demon was hurting more now, its black blood pouring out fast, draining its energy. Clary only had to make a stab at the demons heart, and it would be gone, back to its own dimension. She feinted left, drawing it forward, before lunging right, and with one deliberate jab, she met the heart of the demon, and it was gone.

Her hand was shaking from the effort she put out, taking on two of the demons. The adrenaline rush she had experienced was wearing off immediately, leaving her face sore and bruised. Clary turned to find Jace, running over to her, with nothing but a slight bruise on his forearm. Just the sight of Jace in his Shadowhunter gear was enough to send her heart pounding and she met his embrace with open arms. They stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, letting their moment stretch on longer than necessary.

Jace broke off first, holding onto Clary's shoulders, taking a good long look at her appearance. His eyes narrowed when he took in her bloodied face, and he brought out his seraph blade, intent on healing her wounds. He took her chin gently in his hand and turned her face away from him, applying the _iratze _to her neck. Clary stood impossibly still, not letting herself wince at the burning sensation that made her want to pull away. She hoped that the pain of the marks would get easier, as the others seemed to hardly notice the searing pain of the stele.

He held her face in his hands as her wound quickly healed, then kissed her once quickly on the cheek where part of the gash had been. Clary wanted to reach out and pull his lips onto hers, but Jace was stalking away much too quick already. She tripped over her boots several times—the effect of her balancing rune already gone—before she could catch up and match Jace's quick pace.

Clary entered her room—her still newish room—flinging off her boots in frustration. She had been there two months already and her room had taken on her own style. She was somewhere in between Jace and Isabelle in organization. There were clothes strewn across the floor in front of the closet and her dresser, but her bed was made and tidy. She had yet to hang up picture frames, instead using thumb tacks to place some of her favourite sketches on the wall by the door.

She lay down heavily on her bed, not bothering to take off her filthy gear, covered in mud from being dragged along the ground. Maryse would not be happy with her, dirtying up clean bedspread. Clary could picture her folding her arms over her chest, clicking her tongue, narrowing her eyes. Not wanting that, Clary sat up, peeled off her jacket and pants, and threw them into a pile already started by her door.

Closing her eyes, she tried to let sleep wash over her. But her brain was too overactive, replaying the night over and over in her head. The worst of it was after the demon fight, when Jace wouldn't talk to her. Clary had tried to start up a conversation, but Jace wasn't taking any of the bait. Shoulders stiff, hands in his pockets, Jace was acting like a complete stranger. What was the worst was that he had been like this ever since she had moved in.

She supposed it was partially her fault. The day after she moved in, Clary had gone out to get coffee on her own for herself and Jace. Just turning the corner she caught the end of her mother's conversation with Jace, and to her utter horror it had been a sex talk.

"I know what you two were up to," she had spoken loudly, no embarrassment in her voice, "and I gave you the chance to act like adults and not act upon your impulses, but you obviously did."

Clary had watched from behind a bush, peering out over the top. Jace had a stern look upon his face, not showing any emotion. "And what do you want now? To bring your daughter home?"

"No," Jocelyn replied quickly, "I just wanted to give you these." Clary was horrified as she saw her mother reach into her purse and pull out a small box, obviously trying to be as casual as possible, and hand it over to Jace.

He took it and put it in his jacket pocket swiftly. "Condoms? You think I'm not prepared." He had made it a statement, not a question. He frowned slightly, and Clary could see a quick flash of panic spread over his features. It was fast enough that Jocelyn had not noticed.

"She may be an adult, but I don't think either of you are prepared for any kind of _adult_ situation." Clary didn't like the way her mother spoke the word _adult, _as if Jace didn't know the word.

There was a ringing sound in her ear, and Clary had blocked out the rest of the conversation, not coming out from her hiding spot until her mother had left in the other direction and Jace had gone back inside. When she had brought in the coffee, Jace was acting weird, not kissing her in his usual fashion.

From then on he rarely touched her. This last hunt they had gone on was the first time he had kissed her. Clary had been the one over the last two months to initiate anything, and it had never amounted to anything. If she tried to deepen a chaste kiss he would pull away and make up an excuse that he needed to clean his immaculate room, or that they needed to train more.

Clary balled her hands into fists on her bed, and got up suddenly, too angry to sleep. She tore off the top two sheets from her bed, flung them on the floor and tossed all her dirty clothes on top. Pulling everything into a ball, Clary flung her door open violently and made to walk out the door, not making it a foot out before walking right into something.

Her ball of clothes fell to the floor, her bright pink panties she had worn the night before falling onto the top of the pile. Horrified, Clary looked up to see the towering figure of Magnus Bane. He was looking at her clothes all over their feet, smirking. "Busy cleaning, I see." He bent down, just as Clary did, helping her pick up her clothes. Clary was suspicious, Magnus was never overly nice to her, and even after all the years he had known her.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded a bit too rude.

If he was offended, he didn't show it. "Alec, my dear."

Clary felt stupid. _Of course_ he was there for Alec—his boyfriend. She nodded dumbly. "I'm sorry I ran into you."

"You're doing laundry?" he sidetracked swiftly.

"Yes, it's expected of us to keep our own things clean."

"It's almost midnight," Magnus pointed out.

Clary shrugged her shoulders. "I couldn't sleep," she offered.

"So laundry was your next thing to do." Magnus had a point. Laundry at this hour was oddly suspicious. "It's quite a good cover up; even Alec wouldn't be able to come up with that one."

Clary was confused for a moment. _A cover up? _She had to think of that one. What would she and Alec both need cover ups for? She looked at Magnus's face, smiling innocently down at her. Then it dawned on her.

Clary let out a quick, loud laugh. "You think I'm sneaking off to see Jace," she trilled. Magnus just smiled wider. "That was the last thing on my mind, actually. I really am doing laundry. I have mud on my sheets."

The smile faded from Magnus's face. "Oh, honey," he soothed, "is what I think is happening, happening?"

Clary blushed, and then nodded her head. There was no way getting around this one. "I guess you could call it a minor pause."

It was Magnus's turn to laugh. "A minor pause? I would use that for a week. This seems to be a dry spell. How long?"

Clary blushed deeper at his abrupt question. "Two months."

The fact that Jace wouldn't put a hand on Clary seemed so absurd to Magnus that Clary had to explain what had happened. When she got to the part about the condoms her mother had given Jace, Magnus shook his head and muttered under his breath, "Cock-blocker."

Clary hadn't thought about her mother's intentions all that much, but when Magnus had said those two words, it had finally dawned on her. Jace had thought that Clary could have gotten pregnant! _Pregnant! _She was angry now, knowing full well that she had been well prepared, before she and Jace had become intimate.

"I'm on the pill," she said aloud, when Magnus had nothing to say.

"Does Jace know that?"

"No, but my mother does. Who does she think she is?"

"Your mother," Magnus replied.

Clary fought back a rude reply. "So, what now?" she asked.

"Obviously you need to let him know he's not going to have to worry about parenthood, at least not yet. Maybe he just needs a little... coaxing."

"Coaxing?" Clary tasted the word on her tongue.

Magnus smirked devilishly, his cat-eyes flashing. "Games, my dear. You need to play games with him. Make him want you so much that all his reasons for resisting are overruled."

Clary was going to ask him exactly how, but at that moment Jace walked up to them. Clary was still holding her laundry, Magnus leaning against the far wall.

"Had I not known you were dating my best friend, I may have been worried," Jace spoke to the two of them in his usual form of greeting. "What are you doing?" he asked Clary specifically.

"Laundry."

"In the hallway? Or was Magnus going to snap his finger and clean them instantly. Somehow I don't see him stooping that low, even for you."

Clary had to roll her eyes. "I was on my way to the laundry room, but I bumped into Magnus."

Jace eyed her sceptically. He looked like he was going to argue her answer, but instead said "I'll help you then." He grabbed her large bundle from her hands and started walking down the hall from where he came. He stopped just before reaching the next hallway. "Coming?"

Clary shot Magnus a fleeting look before she ran off after Jace. Magnus just smiled and laughed again.

Jace was already walking at a fast pace when Clary neared him, taking a left down to the laundry room. He said nothing to her, only stopping beside the door to let her open it for him. Opening up the washer, Jace threw in everything, sheets included. Clary was going to complain, but thought better of it. The last thing she wanted was an argument, but she did want his attention.

She waited until Jace had started the water, poured in the soap, and was going to close the lid when she made her move, suddenly inspired. Placing her hand over his, Clary made him stop. "I think you missed some clothes," she told him.

Jace looked around the room. It was immaculate. He raised one of his perfect eyebrows. Clary took his look of doubt as her signal. Tugging on the bottom of her shirt, Clary pulled it up and over her head in the most graceful way she could—which was pretty lame, considering it got caught on her hair, pulling it up into a big ball of electric frizz. Not to be discouraged, she swiftly tossed it into the washer, and following suit was her bra. By the time she had her pants down to her feet, kicking them off, Jace had his hands on her waist.

Clary had avoided his gaze until then, and when she looked into his eyes they were a blazing gold. She was shocked to see so much emotion in them; it had been so long since he really looked at her. "You are a force to be reckoned with, Clarissa Fray," he spoke huskily, sending a surge of warmth south of her belly.

"You don't say," she replied quickly, snaking one of her hands into the top of his pyjama bottoms, lightly brushing the smooth skin there. She could feel Jace shudder in excitement. It didn't take long before his lips were crashing down on hers with such force that she gasped in shock. He took advantage of her open mouth, plunging his tongue into her, deepening the kiss instantly. Jace was rarely forceful with her and Clary could feel herself becoming more turned on already.

Seemingly unpleased with their position, Jace broke away from her, slammed the washer lid down, and pulled Clary up by the waist, placing her heavily on top. She opened her legs so he could fit himself closer to her and he pulled his shirt off before bringing their bare chests together. Clary could hear his quiet sigh as her nipples brushed his chest. She kissed him slowly the second time their lips met, savouring his taste.

Jace was tall enough, even with Clary on the washer, to have his growing erection pushing into her centre. Clary moved involuntarily, wrapping her legs around with back to buck her hips into him, causing a guttural sound to come up Jace's throat. He sounded almost feral in the moment.

Caught up in the heat of the moment, Clary almost forgot what Magnus had suggested. She was going to write it off completely, when she remembered how angry she was with Jace for keeping his distance for so long. Out of nowhere he was touching her again—though she had instigated it, it wasn't the first time she had tried, just the most obvious method—and making her want him so badly that she thought it would be best to get her release finally. But she had other plans. Using all her might, Clary pulled away, pushing Jace apart from her with two hands on his chest.

He stepped back in confusion, possibly thinking Clary wanted a new position. She let him think that for a moment, while bending over and letting him take in her partially covered ass, and stood up once she had her jeans in her hand. Moving back over to the washing machine, Clary stoped the cleaning for a brief second to put in her pants, and pulled the lid back down, with much less force than Jace had used. Grabbing a towel off the rack, Clary wrapped it around herself and walked over to the door.

Finally coming to his senses, Jace moved so swiftly that he was blocking her way before her hand could reach the door handle. "What," he breathed quickly, "are you _doing_?"

Clary raised her eyebrows, mockingly. "Laundry."

"Laundry," Jace repeated as if the word was foreign. Clary watched as the light bulb went off in his head and recognition filled his expression. "This is a very dangerous game you're playing Clarissa," Jace whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. As much as she hated it when he used her full name, it excited her nonetheless.

Clary decided to play along. "It's only dangerous if you're losing and," Clary glanced down at his crotch, his jeans tenting in a way that could not have been comfortable, "I'm in the lead."

Jace had followed her gaze downwards, but he took his time bringing his eyes back up to hers. They were still smouldering, but now there was excitement in them. Clary wanted to have him take her there, but she also wanted to make her point. If he was so intent on not touching her before, she'd make sure he wouldn't get anything, even if he was begging.

"What am I supposed to do now?" he whined a little.

"You've got two hands," she shot back quickly.

Jace laughed at her bold words. "Touché, my love."

Clary had to take a shower once she got back to her room. She locked her bedroom door, then once in the bathroom, locked that door as well, for safe measures. Being unbelievably turned on still, it was hard for her to calm her nerves. Figuring the best way to relieve the pressure was to do it herself. She fidgeted, not really wanting her own fingers. There was nothing wrong with it, she knew, but even thinking the word made her feel a little bit dirtier. _Masturbation, _she thought, forcing the word into her thoughts. There, it wasn't so bad to think it.

She sighed quietly as she first reached her swollen nub, not realising how turned on she had been back in the laundry room. Experimentally, she flicked her clitoris, moaning at the sensation it brought her. But she didn't have long to experiment more, as two cold hands grabbed her waist.

Clary shrieked in surprise, but didn't have to turn around to know it was Jace, laughing manically behind her. She turned anyway, the loud crack of her hand on his face echoing in the bathroom, despite the pounding water. That wiped the grin off his face.

A welt was quickly growing on his cheekbone and Clary felt a wave of remorse fill her as soon as she saw her hand print perfectly marked on his face. "Oh, Jace, I'm so sorry..." Clary trailed off as she met his gaze again that night. There was no anger behind his eyes.

"I suppose I did deserve that, sneaking up on you."

"How did you get in here? I locked both doors," she pointed out.

Jace reached into his pocket—Clary noted that he hadn't bothered to take off his clothes with a bit of disappointment—and pulled out his stele. "You may or may not have some runes burned into both doors," he said innocently.

"I wanted privacy!" she yelled. "And possibly a little release—"

"Which you obviously didn't want from me," he cut her off.

"Because you haven't touched me in _months_ Jace," she countered.

"Then what was that back in the laundry room?"

"_What was it_?" she questioned his own question.

"I think it was quite clear that I was 'touching' you Clary," he told her, anger lining his voice.

"Only because I was practically naked!" she yelled at him again. "Do not act like the innocent victim here, Jace." She was getting fed up with him. Not wanting to fight anymore, she turned away from him, stepping back under the water.

Thinking Jace would get the point and leave, Clary was thoroughly disappointed when he reached over her shoulder and plucked the soap off the ledge before she could grab it. He soaped up his hands generously before moving them purposely over her body, focusing on her most sensitive areas. Her nipples were hard as soon as his fingers lathered them, and she could feel the heat pooling once again in her nether region as his fingers made a deliberate trail downwards.

Jace moved to stand directly behind her, his bare chest pressing on her back and soaked jeans rubbing her legs. Her anger completely fizzled away when he reached her very tender folds, slick with the mixture of soap and her own juices. He moved deliberately, flicking her clitoris every now and then, brining loud moans from deep within Clary's throat.

Then, just before her release, Jace let go of her and stepped out of the shower.

Clary let out a loud groan of frustration. "What," she panted, shutting off the shower and pulling back the curtain, "was that?"

"You know the quote; _all is fair when love is war—_"

"_All's fair in love and war_," Clary corrected him.

"Not this time," he replied and left the room.


	2. Be the one

_Disclaimer: I do not own._

* * *

It took her several deep breaths before Clary calmed down. She wanted to scream in outrage, but knew better. Magnus had suggested that she be the one to play games, not bothering to remind her that Jace would more than likely reciprocate the notion.

Outside the bathroom Clary looked at the door, and just as Jace had hinted, there was the charred line of an opening rune. She didn't even bother looking at the main door, but resolved on the spot to block her door with her dresser the next time she wanted privacy.

Clary's eyes fell to the floor where there was a long, wet trail leading out of her room. Just before the door, however, there were Jace's pants, left in a sopping pile. Clary gritted her teeth to keep from shouting loud profanities down the hallway and tossed the pants into the tub where they cold slowly dry in a heap. She used her towel to dry the floor and found that once she was ready to climb into bed there was a new sheet and blanket to replace the ones she had cleaning. So Jace had done one thing for her, it still didn't make up for the months of torture she had endured.

Exhaustion filled her body once she let herself calm down, and she climbed into bed, resolved to get back at Jace.

The next week went by as if that evening had never happened. When they weren't training, they were fighting demons, and when there were low levels of demon activity Isabelle seemed to deem it necessary to once again fluff out Clary's wardrobe.

"You can never have too many clothes Clary," she patronized when Clary complained that she didn't want to spend her pay check on trivial things such as clothes. Isabelle only rolled her eyes and pulled her into a lingerie store. Pulling out outfits that would make her mother disapprove profusely, Isabelle only asked Clary a simple question, "Do you think Simon would like this one?"

Clary let go of the fleecy housecoat she was holding, snapping her head in Isabelle's direction. "Simon? I don't know Izzy..." she trailed off.

Isabelle didn't seem satisfied with the answer and pursued on. "I mean, he's seen me in nothing, so anything will do. But do you think he'd like the stockings?"

Isabelle had such an innocent longing on her face for Clary's opinion, that it was hard to say anything mean. Clary knew that Isabelle and Simon had been dating on and off over the years, but she thought maybe it was off officially, since Isabelle was already nineteen and Simon was only ever going to look sixteen. She held her tongue and didn't bring it up, only suggesting the skimpy outfit would look nicer in a pale blue, rather than the bright red version she held onto. She really didn't want to know about their sex life, she had heard Isabelle boasting enough times to Jace to know it was very healthy whenever they were together.

At that moment Clary felt a surge of jealousy. Two of her friends were happy and satisfied together and she was downright miserable. Jace was back to his typical, drawn back self, only being with her in the same room alone to train. With a surge of confidence, Clary went back to the rack she was overlooking vaguely and picked out an item she knew would get her what she wanted. "Hey, Isabelle, what do you think of this one...?"

Isabelle's eyes lit up in excitement. "Now we just have to find an outfit to go over top!"

Seven in the evening was the time the four Shadowhunters had agreed on meeting in the hallway outside the elevator. They were all on their way to Pandemonium, a typical scouting of the club to find any stray demons intent on victimizing humans. Jace was leaning against the wall, tapping his foot impatiently against the hard floor. The sound carried far, and he could hear it echoing down the hall.

It wasn't until Alec checked his cell phone for the third time, announcing it was already quarter-past the hour that the two girls meandered towards them. Jace gave Isabelle a quick one-over, noticing her hair was curled for once, and she wore a very long, white dress to cover all of her runes. Clary, on the other hand, Jace couldn't help but stare at.

Her hair was the most unrecognizable, long and sleek, and very, very straight. He didn't know it was possible for her to brush out all of her unruly curls. Jace was also very partial to her dress, black and satin, covering her arms much like Isabelle, but cut off at the knees. It was drawn in at her tiny waist, flaring out to give her more curves than she had. Her legs were covered in emerald tights, and she wore ankle boots that gave her an extra two inches of height.

He must have been gawking because Alec gave him a forceful kick to the side of his leg and Jace immediately shut his mouth. Clary hadn't been looking at him, so he had been saved by his friend. Rearranging his face into a passive one, Jace handed over Clary his extra blade, seeing that she had not worn her weapons belt.

"I'm okay," she put her hand over his, letting him place his seraph blade back on his belt. Clary lifted her skirt up high on her thigh, uncovering two blades on her right leg. Jace was very glad at that moment that Alec had a boyfriend.

"What about your stele?" he asked, hoping she would uncover another hiding place within her dress.

Clary just grinned. "You don't have to worry about that one; I have it covered as well." As she pushed by him, possibly on purpose grazing his crotch with her hand, Jace had to hold in a load moan that was threatening to break the surface of his calm facade. Isabelle followed the red head, then Alec, rolling his eyes and muttering something about women, and Jace took up the rear, happy to have the moment to readjust his pants.

He was beginning to reconsider his resolve.

They were let in through the side door by a werewolf bouncer, not overly happy to see them at his club. Jace flashed him a wide grin, knowing that if he wanted, he could get away with almost anything in here and none of the Downworlders could say anything.

Clary and Isabelle had slipped in earlier, eager to scope out the dance floor. Jace stuck close to Alec, as much as he wanted to be with Clary, because Alec and he were _parabati_. He had to stay close to his partner. They worked best together. So he hung back, choosing a spot on the stairs that up to a smaller loft, overseeing everything. He could easily pick out a small group of vampires, just from their pale, oddly glowing skin. There were also the odd couple of faeries, nixies, and Jace thought he may have even spotted Kaelie, the waitress from Taki's.

His fists clenched and flexed as he watched Clary move around the dance floor, the gazes of several male human and Downworlders watching her pass. He would have liked to go and ring each and every one of their necks, but Alec grabbed his wrist and pointed into the crowd. "Clary's being followed by a demon, look."

Jace didn't have to search for long. It was obvious once he followed her trail backwards, seeing a demon hot on her trail. With a quick glance over her shoulder, it was easy to tell that Clary knew what was going on and she walked towards the back of the club, into the same small room where she first met Jace. He didn't start after her until he saw her remove her seraph blade, mostly because he wanted to know she was ready, and also because a small part of him wanted to see more of her tight-covered thigh.

He didn't have to look to see Alec trailing him as he made his way down the stairs and into the small storage room. He had been slowed down by the mass volume of bodies on the dance floor and was becoming anxious. The two men entered just in time to see the demon lunge out of the way of Isabelle's whip, and straight towards Clary. Jace saw red immediately, and had his seraph blade named and slicing through the creatures back before it could even realize what was happening.

It shrivelled into nothingness quickly, leaving the four Shadowhunters standing over the spot it had once been. Jace took a moment to calm down, ignoring the glare that was surely coming from Clary.

"Jace," Clary drawled out his name. "I had it."

Jace looked at Clary, seraph blade glowing in her hand, her sleeves pushed back to show the inky black runes adorning her arms. She almost looked like she was playing dress-up, and he could have easily fallen for it, had he not been training with her daily.

"A little overprotective?" Isabelle poked Jace in the ribs with her elbow. Alec just rolled his eyes, and checked his phone.

"Are we all done here? Because I have somewhere to be..." Alec tried to pass his eagerness off as nonchalance. They all saw through it.

"If you want to see Magnus, just tell us. No point in beating around the bush Alec," Jace informed him. Alec blushed a similar crimson that Clary blushed when she realised she had done something a little too bold. Jace had to push images out of his mind of all the _bold _things he wanted to do with her.

He was not going to break his resolve. At least not yet, he had promised her a war.

The girls said their good-byes and Alec was gone less than a minute later.

Clary didn't wait to see if Jace was following her when she left the storage room. She really didn't care, either. In fact, what she wanted was a good, stiff drink from the bar. She was as pissed with Jace as she had ever been in a very long time and any kind of release would do right now. When she ordered her drink the bartender didn't even bother asking for I.D. which she found odd, considering she didn't think she looked twenty-one. Then she really looked at the bartender, past his glamour, and saw that he was a dark shade of red with horns growing out of his forehead. He knew better than to mess with a Shadowhunter. Clary took a small bit of pride out of knowing she looked threatening.

However, Shadowhunter or not, Clary had to pay. She reached for her purse, then realised that she hadn't brought one that night. Clary was going to tell the bartender to forget it when a pale hand reached beside her and paid her tab for her.

Clary followed the arm up to the tall, handsome body it was connected to. "Simon!" Clary exclaimed when she saw it was her best friend. "When did you get here?"

Simon smirked, "Awhile ago, but I kept a low profile. I didn't want to distract you or Isabelle. You sure had that demon in your trap very fast," he complimented. He leaned his back against the bar, scoping out the dance floor. Clary took this opportunity to take her shot.

It was disgusting.

She ordered another one. Simon paid again. "Bad night?"

"Yeah," Clary could feel the heat of the liquor starting to roll down her body. "Jace didn't let me kill my own demon. He's such an overprotective ass."

"You know he only does it because he loves you," he stated.

Clary laughed. "Yeah, well if that's all he's going to do to prove his love to me, I don't want it."

Simon looked shocked to hear the words come out of Clary. "Clary..." he verged, "You don't mean..." he trailed off, obviously not wanting to say the words himself.

"Yes, Simon, I do mean that he won't do anything more than touch my arm to pull me out of the way of whatever threat he deems is bad enough. We haven't had sex since my birthday!" she exclaimed in a low tone. Simon didn't seem comfortable with her confession. Clary couldn't think why.

"So, you two... did it?" Simon asked.

Clary felt like an idiot, she hadn't told Simon anything before. She had forgotten, since everyone else seemed to know. Except Maryse and Robert, and that was only because they were hardly at the Institute. "Oh, Simon! I never told you. Not that I planned on bringing it up. I just figured Isabelle would have told you in passing or something..."

She wanted out of the conversation quickly. Clary quickly put a third shot down and when she was about to ask for a fourth, another hand reached out and pulled her back from the bar.

"Clary!" Jace fumed. "What are you thinking? And you..." Jace spat at Simon, "you're not stopping her? You're such a useless bloodsucker."

Simon rolled his eyes in response, not caring about the names Jace still threw at him. Isabelle chose that moment to fill in the awkward silence. "Simon! There you are. I was wondering if you were ever going to show up." She effectively made things worse by pulling him away from Clary and Jace, leaving the two alone.

Clary could feel herself swaying from the alcohol. She wasn't feeling angry anymore, she just wanted to dance.

Jace watched as Clary lost all train of thought, swaying her body to the tantric music blaring from hidden speakers all over the club. He had gone out of his way to protect her, and she had marched straight to the bar. He wanted to punch a hole through the bartender's chest for serving someone who was so obviously a minor.

Instead, he put a fifty dollar bill down on the bar and ordered four shots of whisky. He took them all, one after the other, watching Clary out of the side of his eye. She had a wide-eyed expression of shock on her face. He knew it wouldn't affect him at all, so he grabbed hold of Clary and dragged her out through the back entrance of the club. The cool autumn air seemed to snap Clary back into partial soberness. She gasped at the wind cutting through her thin dress. Jace smiled, smug.

"You are such a hypocrite!" Clary stammered. Despite the refreshing cool air, Clary was still drunk. He wondered how fast it was working on her system. He had only been separated from her a matter of minutes. Maybe the adrenaline in her system caused such a fast reaction. Or maybe it was because she was so thin.

"Possibly, but I'm not the one stammering and drunk" Jace replied, not really wanting to get into a fight. He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him, leading them back home. Clary didn't object, or even speak the whole walk back. And it was a long walk back.

Taking her to her room, Jace was carrying Clary by the time they made it to the front steps of the church. She was light, and he really didn't mind holding her. The ride in the elevator seemed extra long though, and when they were greeted by Church, Jace only kicked the ca lightly out of the way. Reaching her room, he placed her down on her bed, removed her shoes, and went to pull the sheets out from under her when Clary moaned quietly. "Jace, I need you to take off my thigh sheaths. They're cutting off the circulation in my legs."

"Sheaths?" Jace echoed her word. She had _two?_ "Okay, fine."

Jace moved the shirt of her dress up, only to find that the leather straps that Clary had used to don her seraph blades and stele were attached by two more straps that were leading upwards.

Was she wearing what he thought she was wearing?

Jace sucked in his breath as he pushed Clary's skirt up more, exposing all of her legs. He quickly took off all her weapons and laid them on the ground under her bed. He looked up at Clary, who was watching him with a strange intensity. It took him a moment to realise that he had rarely seen that look on her face, mostly because he had prevented it the last two months.

Lust.

Clary was setting him up again. And she was still very intoxicated. He didn't think even Isabelle would have that much coherency to do such a thing. But Jace wanted to see what else Clary was wearing under her little black dress.

He undid her thigh sheaths, only to discover that the leather straps that he thought were attached to them were actually clamped onto her tights. Her tights were actually thigh-highs. _Thigh-highs! _

"Let me help you," Clary crooned, sitting up. She pulled her dress up and over her head, tossing it across the floor. Underneath her dress she wore an emerald green lace bra and matching garter belt. It brought out the rosy colouring of her pale skin and looked amazing with her straight hair falling over parts of her breasts. Jace looked into her face, waiting for her imminent blush to creep into her cheeks and along her chest. It never came.

"Well, this isn't something I uncover on a normal basis," Jace stated.

"You don't uncover _anything _on a normal basis," Clary replied a bit sharply. Jace chose not to answer that one.

The impulse to kiss her was so involuntary that Jace allowed himself to indulge in what he had promised not to.

When Jace came up onto the bed to meet Clary's lips with his own, she thought she would have been overwhelmingly happy. Was she turned one? Definitely. Was she excited? For sure. But happy? Not really. She considered the alcohol in her system, but she felt partially sobered up. The walk they had taken to get back home had managed to clear her head enough to think straight again.

She wanted this, truly. Clary kissed Jace back with the fierceness he was displaying, letting her hands run through his silky locks. She even crooned when Jace brushed her hair aside to properly fondle her right breast.

But this was not exactly how she wanted their night to play out. She wanted him to be the one to start, not have to initiate any kind of foreplay every time. Still, she let their kissing continue, knowing where this was going to lead them. Clary only wondered why Jace had such a change in heart. Maybe it was the lingerie. Or perhaps the alcohol on his breath had actually affected him.

She mewled when Jace removed her bra, taking turns to pull her nipples into his hot mouth. _I want this,_ she told herself, letting her mind get lost in Jace's touch. There was a twinge in her stomach when he brought his lips up to hers, but Clary ignored it, guessing it was just nerves.

Jace was lying right on top of her now, one hand on the small of her back, and the other bent at the elbow to support part of his weight. Their legs were intertwined, and Jace was slowly pushing his hips against hers, trying to gain some friction through his pants. Clary could feel the massive erection Jace was already sporting. She tugged at the waist of his pants, wanting to free his member, and Jace obliged, pulling away from her to undo his button and kicking his pants off the end of the bed. Clary had half hoped he was commando, but he was still wearing his boxer briefs.

Clary brought their faces back together, sighing as his lips touched hers in a heated passion. Jace's tongue was on Clary's lips, asking for entrance, but that tug in her stomach came back again, more insistent. "Jace, get off me."

He rolled off her, but not before shooting her an angry look. "You complain that we're not having sex, Clary, and here I am ready to do your bidding, and you tell me to _get off_?" he yelled at her. "To hell with you!"

Clary would have liked to explain what she meant, but her stomach lurched dangerously and she barely had enough time to get to the toilet. Her hands were shaking when she pushed herself back up, onto her feet, and she could hardly hold her glass under the tap water to rinse her mouth. She looked over her shoulder to see if Jace had stuck around, but he was gone.

Not wanting to sleep in her underwear, Clary stripped her body of her remaining garments and pulled on her favourite pyjamas. She focused her mind on other things, like how happy she was to see Simon again. She really needed to make more of an effort to see him. With thoughts of her childhood friend Simon, Clary finally drifted off into an easy sleep.


	3. Sweet Talker

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments are not mine. _

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"Good morning Clary!" Jace's voice filled her tiny bedroom. There was light suddenly and it was hard for Clary to see anything. He hadn't opened any curtains, but the light bulb had the same effect. She pulled her sheets up and over her head, mumbling a few curses, trying to fall back asleep.

Her covers were soon torn off her bed, leaving her gasping at the sudden cool air on her skin. Clary saw Jace balling up her covers and throwing them down the hallway. She threw Jace a few more curse words, checked her cell phone and saw it was only six in the morning. It was time for another early morning practise.

Clary sat up and got off her bed. Then she sat down again, her head swimming. She thought back to the previous evening, the shots of whatever Simon had paid for. Clary never thought she would be hung over.

Jace was obviously a morning person, as he was dressed in shorts and a tight fitting t-shirt, bright-eyed, and two cups of coffee in his hands. He handed her a cup.

"Thanks," Clary muttered as she took her coffee. She took a sip and spat it back out into the cup. "Ack! What did you do to it?" she demanded.

Jace looked offended. "I didn't do anything to it. It's black."

Clary handed him the cup back. "You know I hate it plain."

"Yes," was the only reply he gave her. He put the cup back down on her dresser before leaving the room. "You have five minutes," he called from down the hall.

Despite her anger, Clary knew it was useless fighting him on this one. She had to train. So she pulled out her training clothes—sports bra and spandex—and made her way to the training room slowly. Only once did she have to duck into a bathroom to heave up all the liquids in her stomach. She swore to never drink again.

Finally making it to the training room, Clary pushed open the doors to enter. She was always impressed by the high ceiling and wood paneled walls, and her fingers seemed to itch to draw it this particular morning. Or maybe she was just looking for an excuse to not train.

Jace was standing in the middle of the room, impatiently waiting for her. He had already gotten out all the gear they would be training with, which wasn't much. In fact, it only consisted of several floor mats in the middle of the room. She could only guess that they would be doing hand to hand combat.

She was caught off guard when she stepped onto the mat, Jace making a large sweeping motion towards her, throwing her onto her back in seconds. The wind was knocked out of her and tears stung at her eyes as she tried to take deep breaths. Had she not already thrown up, she would have then.

Once she was able to use the full capacity of her lungs she pulled herself back up to her feet. She was ready the second time Jace lunged at her, able to successfully throw her arms up in a type of guard as Jace extended one of his legs up to her chest. She held her position as was able to reciprocate with a kick to his ribs, effectively knocking Jace's balance off and forcing him to back up a few steps.

As angry as Jace looked, Clary felt her own anger even more. She used it to move towards Jace, intent on showing him up this lesson. He was no longer standing up right, but crouching down, much like a panther, ready to strike. Clary refused to let herself worry about all the years of training he had on top of her, and tried to not let her mind flitter to images of Jace actually on top of her, naked and sweaty...

Again Jace took advantage of Clary's distracted mind, darting to the side so fast that she couldn't block his next blow to her upper back. Hitting her between the shoulder blades, Clary stumbled forward, losing her balance, and landing on her knees. Her breathing was picking up, and she tried to focus her mind on what Jace was doing behind her. She remained on her knees, strategically this time, waiting for Jace to try and hit her again.

Predictably, Clary could hear the soft squishing of the mats on the floor as Jace made his way over to her again. Wanting their training session to be over quickly, Clary waited until she could hear his breath just above her to knock him down. She quickly raised one knee up, allowing her to spin around and kick out the back of Jace's knees, effectively throwing him onto his back. He landed with a satisfying thump and a moan.

Clary moved so that she was kneeling over Jace, her hands holding his arms down by the inside of his elbows. "You're an asshole," she managed to get out. "What the hell was this all about?"

Jace glared at her, his eyes glowing with intensity. Moving only with a grace that Clary would never possess, Jace managed to sit up, push Clary onto her back in turn, and had her pinned down. Kneeling above her, Clary could see restraint in Jace's posture. He wanted to keep fighting, but Clary didn't have it in her. She closed her eyes, wanting to forget the last few days.

They were supposed to be in love, expressing their feeling not only through words and kind gestures, but in intimacy as well. Feeling self pity, Clary was more than surprised when Jace's warm lips touched hers lightly. His hands moved off her wrists and onto her face, cupping it gently.

It was an apology, Clary realised a bit slow. She reciprocated by using her newly freed hands to feel the smooth planes of his abs, dipping her left hand below the waist of his shorts. He was commando this morning. She brushed the base of his penis, causing it to twitch and quickly harden. Jace let out a low growl and bucked his hips into her hand. Felling motivated by his actions, Clary began to move her hand up and down Jace, drawing more noises out of his mouth. He felt wonderful in her hand and only said, "More please, Clary."

She sucked on his shoulder while stroking his large erection with more force. After all of this she wanted him to have a mark. A reminder of what kind of things she could do to him, if he let her.

When Jace started to pant, Clary let go of his member for a moment, pulling Jace down beside her, so she could straddle him again. She inched his pants down past his hips to properly free his hard length, taking it once again, but also grasping his balls in her other hand. Jace was sweating, beads decorating his bare torso, and Clary couldn't help but run her tongue from his navel to the base of his throat, tasting the saltiness of his skin. It was divine.

"Clary," Jace's voice wavered as he spoke her name, "I don't think... I'm almost there..."

Clary hushed him with her mouth on his. "Don't worry, you can do me later," she told him suggestively. Jace tried to smirk, but his features were too scrunched up with pleasure to really pull it off.

With a few more hard pumps, Jace was calling Clary's name mixed in with a few curses, his fluids ending up on her fingers. She licked them experimentally, savouring his juices. Wiping the rest off on her spandex, she eyed him up. There was that look of lust in his eyes that Clary had longed to see. "Somehow," he started once his breathing went back to normal, "even in the midst of all that, I thought you were going to pull away and tell me to finish what you started."

Clary laughed. "I guess I forgot we were fighting."

There was a quiet click of a door handle, and Clary looked up horrified. Alec was walking into the room, followed by Maryse. Clary's eyes darted back to Jace, but he was already standing up, shorts back above his hips. Clary flushed pink, knowing that they must have heard what was going on.

Alec was avoiding their gazes, but Maryse was staring down both Jace and Clary. Her sharp, angular face held no softness in it this morning. She only frowned. "What kind of practise involves a shouting match? Tell me it was for training purposes."

"It's a way of strengthening the lungs," Jace lied seamlessly. "And I also love the sound of my voice, especially when I use Clary's name. It's exquisite." He folded his arms over his chest and nodded his head once, as if it was confirmed.

Maryse didn't looked convinced, but she said nothing more on the subject. Turning her attention to Clary she took a quick once-over to her appearance. She tried to not fidget, but it was hard. "Seeing that you are all warmed up, I'd like you to continue your training with Alec this morning." Alec looked at Clary, a little sympathetically. "I need to speak to you Jace," she told him, "alone."

Jace nodded in compliance, gave Clary's hand a quick squeeze, and followed Maryse out of the room.

Alec brought out two seraph blades from under his shirt. "What position do you want to start with?" he asked.

Clary was still thinking of Jace. "What?" she turned to look at him, completely unaware of what he was actually asking at first. She blushed when she realised what he meant. "Standing," she answered.

Clary walked into her room, sore and tired from her training session with Alec. He had challenged her more than she was used to, and muscles that she never knew she had were tight with pain. It wasn't until she walked into her bathroom that she realised that she had not opened her bedroom door. Walking back into her room, she saw that there was no door on the hinge.

Panicked, she ran down the hall to Jace's room, to find him walking away with his own bedroom door. She put her hand on his shoulder to stop him, and Jace craned his neck to see her. "What on earth are you doing with that?"

"Redecorating. It's very feng shui."

Clary couldn't believe he was joking about their doors. "By taking our doors away? Where's the privacy in that?"

"Maryse doesn't think we need it."

"You've got to be joking."

"No, I'm just Jace." Clary rolled her eyes, huffing out a groan of frustration.

"Where are they going?" she asked when he continued to walk.

"Into the green house. It's empty enough that it can be used for storage." Jace waited for her to follow, but Clary didn't want to.

"But _why?" _Clary whined. She couldn't understand why she had to have her room exposed to any occupant of the Institute. "We're adults!"she exclaimed.

"Two unmarried, uninhibited adults," Jace clarified. "And besides, I know lots of ways of getting around this problem. Trust me." He winked and began to climb the stairs. Clary stormed back to her room, slamming the only door she had left shut.

Jace didn't have to use his stele to unlock Clary's bathroom door the second time he entered without her permission. He made sure that everyone else was gone from the Institute—Isabelle was still out from the previous night, Alec had gone to see Magnus, and Maryse was off doing whatever filled up her free time. It was the early evening, and Jace had avoided going to console Clary for the entire morning and afternoon. If she wanted to sulk, he'd let her. He knew she'd be in a better mood eventually. With everyone gone, they would have complete privacy for at least an hour, and all he needed was the time it took to have an excessively long shower.

It still didn't stop him from locking the door, as a precautionary move.

Clary was standing naked, leaning over the counter, gazing at her reflection. She didn't seem startled or even self-conscious when she looked over her shoulder to see Jace standing off to the side. She simply looked back at her reflection, not saying anything. He had to admire her figure; it had filled out more after two years. Her breasts and hips were still relatively small, but there was more definition to them, they had filled out enough to give her an adult body. She didn't look like a young teenager, she looked like the woman she was.

Their intense training sessions had also done their work. Her soft, thin limbs were now muscled and toned much in the same way Isabelle's were. She looked strong, but still very, very feminine. His hands worked of their own accord when they lightly brushed her still straight hair off of her back, kissing the place between her shoulder blades lightly. He was pleased to hear a soft sigh escape Clary's mouth.

He wasn't pleased to see the large bruise forming on her lower back, though. He hadn't intended to leave any marks on her that morning, just show her that she had to be on guard no matter how awful she felt—and he knew she was hung over. There were dark circles on her eyes, and the white of her green eyes were very blood shot. Had she been crying?

"Clary," he soothed, "are you okay?"

She sighed and turned around, exposing her bare front to him. There was nothing sultry in the way she presented herself this morning. "No, I'm not." She ran a hand through her long locks, only stopping when she reached a knot. "When did everything get so complicated?"

"When you first stalked me in Pandemonium."

Clary rolled her eyes, not impressed. She had her arms crossed over her chest very fast. Jace was saddened by the cover up. "Okay, not the best time to joke."

"You think?"

"On many occasions."

Clary rolled her eyes again, groaning as she breathed out.

"Well, what do you want me to think?" he asked, trying to amend the situation.

"I don't know, Jace. Maybe, just tell me what's been going on in your head ever since my birthday. That could help clear up some things."

Jace stood beside Clary, leaning against the counter as well. He tried to see a way out of this. But he knew Clary well enough that is she wanted something, she wouldn't stop till she had it.

"Your mother thought she needed to have a serious talk with me. She told me that I shouldn't have violated your innocence—"

"Violated? Oh my god! She is terrible. I practically jumped you," Clary informed him, her eyes wide with anger. She seemed to have picked a spot on the wall to glare at.

"Clary." Jace took her chin into his hand, bringing her attention back to him. "That wasn't all. Your mother thought I should have done the right thing, that we should have waited until, you know..." he dropped off the last words, embarrassed.

He watched Clary's face, as it went from confused; her brows wrinkled in that cute way he always loved to see, then as if a light bulb went off, her features shifted to humiliation. Her cheeks flushed a bright pink, and Jace watched as the colour spread down her neck and onto her breasts. He had to focus his eyes on to her face to keep from staring at her still naked torso. She was unbelievably sexy when she wasn't trying and completely mesmerizing when she put in the effort.

She opened and closed her mouth several times; whatever she was trying to say was stuck on her tongue. Jace didn't miss her eyes quickly scanning his empty hands, her quiet sigh of relief. "I'm not ready for marriage. I'm only eighteen."

"And you think I am?"

"You're the one who brought it up," she informed him.

"You asked me what was going through my head, so I told you," he countered. "Besides, that's just your mother's upbringing talking. It would be typical for a couple our age to be married by now. With a shorter life span and all..."

"Don't say that!" Clary cried angrily.

Jace shrugged his shoulders. "It's true."

"I don't care if it's true. We're going to live a very long time, despite the track record."

Clary's determinedness brought a smile to Jace's lips. He appreciated her positive thinking. "Fine, let's not breach that subject. I've got something I'd like to do besides arguing." He moved his hands behind her neck and brought his lips down to hers. It was supposed to be a simple, sweet kiss, but Clary must have other ideas because she attacked his mouth with an urgent fervour.

She had her hands in his hair and was pulling on it soon after their lips met. Jace couldn't help but moan into her mouth at the feeling. Only she could bring him so much pleasure with such simple movements.

He gasped when her hand made it into his pants, urgently pulling on his member. Clary bit down on his lower lip, making Jace groan deeply. It only took moments before he was fully erect in her very capable hand. He had missed the sensations she brought him, and wondered why he had even let her mother's words get to him.

Not wanting to be the only one excited, Jace moved one of his hands onto Clary's ass, the other right on her clitoris. He swirled his fingers until her juices started to drip onto his hand. She was mewling into his mouth, stroking him even more as she became aroused.

They continued to kiss deeply, their tongues mixing, teeth nipping at lower lips. Clary broke off suddenly. "Your clothes have to go," she demanded, pulling at the hem of his shirt. They disentangled from each other long enough for Jace to strip his body of all his clothes.

He felt the obvious strain in his groin lessen, but the need to bury himself deep within Clary still remained. In his haste to bring her into the bedroom, he made the most ungraceful move in his adult life and tripped, pulling them both to the floor. Managing to twist his body, Clary landed on top of him, receiving none of the shock of the short fall.

"Whoa, tiger," Clary crooned. She placed a hand on his chest, absentmindedly tracing over his scars. "Where are you going?"

Jace pointed to the door. "To the bed, it's much more comfortable."

Clary smirked. "A room with no door, that's very exhibitionist of you."

Jace's grip on Clary slackened. He had completely forgotten what he had personally done that morning. "That would be highly courageous. However, I don't wish to give away our secrets of passionate lovemaking to the others. The floor mat will have to make do," he amended quickly. "Now, would you like to stay on top?"

Clary laughed loudly, her cheeks slightly pink. "Not one to stray off topic, I take it?"

He put his hands on her face, effectively answering her with a kiss. They rolled over, Jace moving to be on top, even though Clary had never answered his question. She spread her legs instinctively, letting him fit in between.

He moved one of his hands off her face to cradle her neck. He could feel the small scar from the _iratze _he had drawn on her after the first time they has made love. The memory of her intensity that nigh stuck out in his mind, only making his swollen member even tighter.

Clary was becoming restless from the kissing. She was running her hands roughly up and down his back, and had hooked one of her legs around his hip to grind her wet centre into him. Jace was impressed by this Clary—bold and daring and very uninhibited. He couldn't even see a trace of a blush on her face or chest this time.

Putting his needs aside, Jace started a very slow and very deliberate trail of open-mouthed kisses down her body. He kissed each of her nipples, making sure to nip at each of them, then he moved down to her belly button, tasting the skin there, and finally her reached her swollen centre, dripping and ready for him. Jace knew what to do next, but he looked up at Clary's face, seeing her watch him with slight awe and curiosity. Not seeing any sign of hesitancy, he stuck out his tongue slowly but deliberately and licked her opening from the bottom to the top.

She tasted wonderful.

Clary groaned lowly, her fingers curling into the floor mat, her legs moving to wrap around Jace's shoulders. "More," she panted. Jace obliged, sliding one finger into her slit to slide it in and out. She was putty in his capable hands, whimpering at his expertise. He had to concentrate on what he was doing—she was still so tight that it took much of his will power to not just plunge into her. He pulled his mouth away, replacing it with a second and third finger. She had put her own needs aside that morning, even after the way he treated her, and now he would reciprocate the notion, apologizing through his actions.

It didn't take long before Clary was trembling with her first orgasm that evening, sweat beads rolling down her forehead, arms, stomach, and thighs. She mumbled Jace's name several times before she opened her eyes, still very full of lust. Clary pulled Jace back on top of her. He kissed her lips again, a quick gasp escaping her lips as she tasted herself on his lips. He was reminded of the first time they kissed, when she let in a quick gasp of surprise. That kiss had been so innocent, but extremely significant to their relationship. He had never meant to kiss her on her sixteenth birthday, but he couldn't imagine what their lives would be like if it had never happened.

Jace reached a confident hand back down on her heat, finding it still very wet and ready. All their training had built up her stamina. She was ready to go again, moaning at his touch. Her hips buck up to meet his hand.

"Easy there tiger," Jace used the name she had previously used. "I was just making sure you were ready."

Clary had a devilish look on her face. "I've had plenty of time to build up to this." She kissed him, grabbing his length in her hand, and guiding him to her wet opening.

Jace didn't hesitate pushing into her, relishing in the feeling of her slick, tight folds. He couldn't help but drive into her forcefully, a feral growl escaping from his chest. Clary didn't seem to have any objection as she wrapped her legs around his waist, moving her hips to match his thrusts.

Their foreheads met abruptly, and Jace caught Clary's mouth in his briefly, nipping on her upper lip. He moved his head to her shoulder, Clary biting lightly on his earlobe. His grip tightened on her waist, letting him move even faster in and out of Clary. If it was even possible, she felt even slicker.

Where her hair met her damp forehead, curls started forming out of her straight locks. He pushed them off her face, not wanting to obscure her features in any way.

There was a tingling in his stomach, growing outwards and consuming his body. His orgasm was coming fast. Pushing himself as far into Clary as he could, he played with her clitoris, making her reach her climax first. Her body shuddered in pleasure, even as Jace pumped into her a few more times before letting his release fill up her womb.

Jace kept himself in Clary as he peppered small kisses all over Clary's face and chest—lingering on her nipples longer than anything. They had been sadly missed this time. He made a mental note to include them a lot more often.

Clary kissed him one more time before moving to disentangle their bodies. He felt the loss of contact as soon as he slid out of her. He saw the same feeling reflected on Clary's face, but she smiled widely.

"That was... utterly perfect," she commented.

"Not too shabby," Jace joked. He winced when Clary punched him in the shoulder, it hurt a little. "Sorry! I let my sarcasm get the best of me," he apologized.

Clary stood up, examining her reflection in the mirror again. This time she didn't have a frown upon her face. She reached for her hair brush, combed it through her hair a few strokes before giving up and putting it back on the counter. "I'm a mess," Clary sighed, noting her appearance. She had still not taken a shower since the day before. Her once perfectly straight hair was beginning to curl in places where it had been exposed to her sweat.

"Yes, but a hot mess." Jace wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the spot where her shoulder met her neck. "C'mon, let's take a shower, before you start to smell."

"You're not so clean, either," Clary pointed out. She traced one finger down from the base of his throat down to his belly button. She was pleased to feel him shudder. "But dirty men are so hot," she whispered in his ear.

Jace couldn't help but laugh at her brashness. She was so different from when he first met her. Gone was the girl with the easy blush and shy tendencies, replaced by the hot tempered, intoxicating sex vixen. "You're going to have to put on those thigh highs again for me sometime soon," he told her. "But until Maryse decides we can have our doors back, we're going to have to improvise on where we have our little... interactions."

Clary turned to kiss him again, then pulled away to get the shower started. Once the water was on, she stepped in, only throwing one inviting glance over her shoulder. Her body screamed _come hither, _to him.

They were going to have so much fun finding new places to have sex, he just knew it.


	4. Call the shots

_Discliamer: I do not own anything Mortal Instruments. I just play with them._

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"So can you explain to me why I have to wear this costume?" Jace demanded an answer from Clary for the second time that afternoon. He was holding a flimsy piece of white fabric in his fingers, a dubious look upon his face. "I don't think it's going to cover much."

Clary grabbed the fabric from his fingers easily and began to hand stitch on a band of golden ribbon. She ignored the look of frustration from Jace, choosing to focus on her work instead. They only had another handful of hours until they had to leave and she still had to put her costume together.

She watched as Jace left the room, unable to take her eyes off his shirtless form. His back still had a few healing bruises on it. A smile spread across her face at the memory. He had made a very ungraceful move the other day and fell on the bathroom floor. A snicker escaped her lips.

"What are you laughing about?" asked another voice from her doorway. It was Alec.

Clary stiffened at his appearance. Despite their growing fondness, she still found it hard to make conversation with the eldest Lightwood sibling. She stared at his tall figure in the doorway, noticing that, despite his seemingly casual appearance, his shoulders were stiff and his eyes were slightly narrowed. She couldn't help but sigh. Alec may like her, but he was never completely comfortable around her.

"I was just thinking about the other day when I was with Jace and he fell," Clary finally offered an answer.

She was surprised when Alec walked into the room with honest curiosity on his face. She was even more surprised when he sat down beside her. "He fell? What happened?"

Clary couldn't help the expression of shock on her face. Alec never sat near her, especially when he could help it.

"You actually want to know?" Clary wasn't sure how to explain that they were in the middle of foreplay and Jace tripped in the midst of trying to take them to her bed.

Alec had obviously followed some train of thought that led him to blush. "I guess not." He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. There was something else he wanted to say. "Clary..." he started quietly. "Could you help me with a costume? Magnus will freak out if I don't dress up. You must know how particular he is with his parties."

Clary nodded. She had been to several of Magnus Bane's parties. This was her second Halloween at his apartment. But it was the day of Halloween, and the stores were already closing at this hour. "What were you planning on wearing?"

Alec's face lit up at her acceptance to help him. "I thought you could just find something in my wardrobe and make it work."

Clary laughed. "You only have black. The only thing you could go as is a Shadowhunter."

Alec looked a little crestfallen. "So you can't help me?"

Clary smiled wickedly. "Oh, I think I can. We just need to raid Isabelle's closet."

Isabelle had announced earlier that morning that she would be meeting up with them later. She had plans with her date before the party started. Jace wanted to ask why she didn't just admit to wanting to get in a little action with Simon before the party, but kept his mouth shut. She probably would have strangled him with her whip.

He chose to wallow in his own self pity, stuck in a white toga, itching to put on pants. Clary had insisted on making his costume and didn't have the heart to tell her no. She had picked out a tiny green costume with matching green slippers and a pair of wings. She was going as Tinker something, but he never did catch the name she said. He was too busy gawking at the amount of skin she had exposed in her own costume. It was unbelievable how little fabric she had on still managed to cover _everything _he wanted to see.

Jace formulated plans on how to extract her naked body from it while the two of them followed Alec's lead to Magnus's loft. Clary was babbling on and on about Alec's costume and how clever she thought it was. The two men only joined in on her banter whenever necessary. Neither of them deemed Halloween as anything more than a nuisance. It always made it easier for demons to go undetected.

Thinking along the lines of demons, Jace wondered if Clary had even packed any kind of protection for herself. The skirt of her dress was obviously too short to cover those thigh sheaths she wore sometimes, and the bodice was too tight to have shoved anything down her front. He frowned thinking about how easily she trusted Downworlders. The only thought he could take sanity in was that he had managed to convince Clary to let him attack his weapons belt onto his waist. Not that it was a matter of convincing her; just letting her know in a way that it seemed like her idea that he was bringing weapons.

They arrived at Magnus's party well after it had started, a long line of Downworlders were already waiting at the entryway. Jace put on his biggest grin as the three of them skipped the line, many of the waiting guests throwing curses their way and at the door's bouncer.

The loft upstairs was unrecognizable from the time Jace had been held as a sort of prisoner for the Inquisitor—who just so happened to be his now deceased grandmother, but he never dwelled over the thought long—with the usual living room decor was gone, replaced by tall dance lights and decorations. This year's theme seemed to be based on a haunted house, with huge mirrors that distorted his features as he walked by them, and various fake bats and mummies hanging from the ceiling. There was even a fog machine somewhere, slightly clouding the room. It was the only part of the decorations he was uncomfortable with.

Even though this party was supposed to be fun and conflict-free, Jace was still slightly on edge. Clary, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, talking away to Magnus, who had appeared out of nowhere. Jace purposely turned his attention away when Magnus leaned down to kiss Alec affectionately on the mouth. Despite having no problems with their relationship, Jace knew Alec still wasn't comfortable with kissing Magnus in front of his family.

Magnus had outdone himself again, being more sparkly and outlandish than ever before. Jace wouldn't even bother asking him who he was dressed up as. He turned his attention back to Clary as she boasted on Alec's costume.

"... and I only just found the t-shirt in Isabelle's closet!" he caught her sentence. "I figured, with the dark hair, and leather jacket that he already had, Danny would be the perfect costume for him. I know the jeans aren't dark enough, but at least his hair is perfect. I even lent him one of my combs for his pocket."

Clary seemed happy enough describing whatever costume Alec was wearing. Truth be told, Jace hadn't really looked at his costume. He'd only really noticed his hair, completely gelled into a goofy style on top of his head. He was also wearing a smaller pair of jeans that Jace guessed he wore when he was younger. Jace did recognize the white shirt though; Isabelle slept in it a lot. Thinking of Isabelle, Jace started to wonder when she would show.

"Clary," he interrupted her in the middle of her speech, "Did you bring your cell?"

Clary nodded and pulled it out of the top of her dress. He duly noted the flush on her chest, as she retrieved it. It was very warm and had her perfume scent on it.

He quickly dialled Isabelle's phone. It rang for several long moments before going straight to her voicemail. "_It's me. I'm busy. Leave a mess—"_ Jace hung up before the message could finish. He let out an annoyed sound and handed Clary back her phone.

Clary was glad that Magnus seemed pleased with Alec's costume choice. At least Magnus knew about Greasers and John Travolta. She also knew Alec would have to endure a movie night with Magnus, watching the movie.

Alec seemed pleased too, smiling once and a while, holding Magnus's hand. Clary knew it was a long time coming for him to be comfortable with having a public and private relationship with the warlock. She went to grab onto Jace's hand, but he was gone. She looked around the room, but the smoke made it hard to distinguish the shapes of party goers. She sighed and excused herself from Alec and Magnus.

It was easy to guess that after twenty minutes of looking for Jace, that he was no longer at the party. Annoyed at his sudden departure, Clary no longer felt in the mood to celebrate Halloween. She half-heartedly looked for Alec, to tell him she was leaving, but never managed to find him again. She supposed he had snuck of with Magnus to his room, but didn't want to risk walking into anything.

The night had gotten colder, and she cursed herself for not bringing a jacket. Shivering, Clary glanced up and down the street, and saw a tall blonde figure walking back in the direction she had originally come. "Jace!" she called loudly, but he didn't respond. Clary ran to try and catch up, but his figure had disappeared.

She was going to walk back to the party, figuring that Jace was probably inside, and she had just missed him, but something caught her attention. Instinctively reaching for her seraph blade, Clary found nothing, remembering how she had not bothered to bring her weapons. Cursing herself, she took off at a quick pace, back to Magnus's loft.

"Where are you going so fast, little girl?" a crackly voice asked. Clary stopped mid stride at the closeness of the voice.

She turned around to confront the voice and found herself looking up so high that he neck hurt with the strain. "I'm not a little girl," she enunciated each word clearly. "What do you want?" she asked, stalling for time. Clary couldn't tell if he was a Downworlder or a demon. There was a slight shimmer to his appearance and she couldn't break through the glamour.

The tall figure stood ominously above her, breathing loudly. Clary took a step backwards, and he matched her step. Clearly, he wanted something from her. "You should leave," Clary warned him. "My friends are on their way."

"Oh, are they now?"

"Yes." Clary tried to make out his face, but there wasn't enough light out on the street to see.

"It's such a pity," he said sarcastically.

Clary didn't want to ask why. Instead, she crouched into a defensive position, bracing herself for an attack she was certain would happen any time.

The creature made a loud, angry call, and Clary was prepared for a fist or weapon to come slashing at her. She ducked to the side, quickly rolling over and standing back up in a crouch. What she saw was Isabelle and her whip, wrapped around the neck of the creature. He was struggling for air, desperately clawing at the electrum whip that would not give way to his feeble attempts.

Clary looked away when she could see Isabelle preparing to behead the creature—clearly identifiable as a demon now—and only heard the painful sound of flesh and muscle being torn apart. The smell of ichor was clearly evident, and when Clary looked back, there was no trace of the demon.

Isabelle had a smirk on her flawless face, obviously enjoying her latest kill. "Were you looking for an adrenaline rush? Because Jace would have killed the both of you."

Clary shook her head. "I came out here looking for Jace. I lost him in the party." She turned back to look down the road, the entryway to the party was void of Downworlders waiting in line. "You won't tell Jace, will you? If he asks you can let him know I came out to meet you downstairs?"

Isabelle seemed to think over Clary's request. Frowning, she reluctantly agreed. "Fine, but if he somehow finds out, you have to take all the blame. I refuse to deal with any more of his hissy fits."

"Where's Simon?" Clary asked to change the subject. "I thought he was your date."

Isabelle sighed loudly while shrugging her shoulders. "He never returned my call this morning, so I figured he doesn't want to see me anymore."

Clary wasn't sure that was the case. Simon has always had a thing for Isabelle. "Maybe he had something important to do. You know Simon, very mysterious nowadays."

"I miss him as a mundane," was all Isabelle said.

Clary took the moment of silence to look over Isabelle's costume. She had her favourite pair of boots on, paired with a very inappropriate cheerleader costume, sans pompoms. Had any other girl tried to pull off the costume, they would have looked ridiculously slutty. But Isabelle could always pull off anything and still look amazing.

Not wanting to stay outside any longer, Clary hooked her arm in Isabelle's and headed back to the apartment.

Inside, the party had continued on. There were even more guests though, and the smoke in the room had thickened, making it exceptionally difficult to see anything around them. Clary thought she may have spotted Alec once or twice, but in her haste she lost Isabelle in the crowd.

Giving up on finding anyone else, Clary sat down at the bar. The bartender asked her if she wanted anything, but she hastily shook her head no. One hangover was plenty for her. She turned around, resting her elbows on the counter top, scanning through the smoke for any form of familiarity.

"Looking for someone?" an unfamiliar voice asked her.

Clary looked to her left and found a handsome, if somewhat off-kilter, man standing beside her. He had a lopsided grin on his face, and his nose was a bit too big for his face. He was wearing a jester's costume, green and black, topped with an outrageous hat that covered all but a small bit of his dark bangs on his head.

"My friends," Clary said, "I've managed to lose them all."

The man still smirked when he spoke, "At least you have some here with you. Me," he pointed to himself, "I came alone. I found a flyer at a restaurant and it sounded like fun."

Clary looked at him still, trying to figure out who and what he was. There was no glamour that she had to look through, so she considered maybe a werewolf. "And where do you come from?"

The man lost his smile. "Nowhere in particular. I've lived all over Europe, just recently made my way here. I'm Tristan," he introduced himself. Clary shook his outstretched hand. He kissed the top of her hand.

"Clary."

"Beautiful name. May I ask who you came here with?"

Clary opened her mouth to speak, but another voice spoke up. "She's with me."

She turned to her right to see Jace looming over the two of them. There was an instant release of stress from her body as she took in his sight. He was still in costume, but he had his seraph blade in his hand. Clary was confused by his hostility. She looked over to Tristan, expecting him to be angry or tense, but he was still relaxed. "Jace..." she said warily. "There's no need for that." She put her hand over his occupied one, making him drop his arm. "Tristan was just talking to me because I couldn't find anyone else."

Jace stood over her, glaring at Tristan. Clary followed his gaze, interested in what he was frowning over, and saw that Jace was looking at his forearm. She was shocked to see several black marks decorating his fair skin. _Runes. _"You're a Shadowhunter." Clary wasn't sure why she had missed the marks before, they were so obvious now that she knew they were there.

"Yes, I am Clary." Tristan kept his eyes on Jace's face. They were having a very unsettling staring contest. Tristan looked away first to smile at Clary. "I know when I'm not wanted. I'll leave." He held out his hand to shake hers, and she took it a second time that evening. "Be careful _angel_, you don't want to run into another demon tonight."

Jace sent her such a perplexed look, Clary couldn't help but grit her teeth. How could he have known about that? Was he spying on her?

Clary stood up and had to pull Jace away from his spot to leave. She threw one last glance Tristan's way, but he was already gone, hidden by the smoke. She moved her hand from Jace's wrist, winding her fingers in his—but she winced once he took a firm grip on her hand. He was holding back his anger, and her hand was the receiver of the restraint. Once they were out on the street again Jace took the lead, practically dragging Clary back to the institute. Her fingers were throbbing once he let her hand out of his grip; she had to shake out the pins and needles in order to properly use her hand again. Jace took no notice.

She only followed him to her room, watching his retreating figure disappear down the poorly lit hallways. Only when she could no longer see the golden glow of his hair did she step into her room. Not having a door, she was becoming accustomed to changing in the bathroom. She stripped off her costume, tossing her wings back into her bedroom, before stepping into the hot shower. The stream of water made her feel immensely better, removing the smell of the Halloween party from her skin, and letting her hair fall back down her back where it comfortably tickled the small of her back. There were no thoughts in her mind for once, and she let herself enjoy the sound of water echoing in the bathroom.

It wasn't until her fingers resembled prunes did she finally step out of her haven. Clary took her time drying her body, even using the blow dryer to dry her curly mane. She appraised her appearance in the mirror, pleased that her hair wasn't as frizzy as it usually was after blow drying it. Wrapping the same towel around her body, Clary went back into her room to fetch the pyjamas she had left on her bed.

She listened to the hallways for any noise of Jace, but found none. Maryse and Robert were once again away—Clary suspected that they could not bear to stay at the institute too long, their memories always being flooded of their deceased son, Max. She missed their presence, even if they were a bit haughty at their worst, and longed to speak to her own mother. She knew that couldn't happen either—Jocelyn and Luke had left the state to look for more werewolves to recruit. They had almost been gone two weeks, and Clary had not heard from them yet. But she did not worry about them, Luke had assured her that they would only contact her if they were having difficulties, and Clary accepted his reassurance.

Fingering her clothes, Clary heard a quiet shuffle and turned around. Jace was leaning in her doorway, smirking, with his hand on the door handle. He only wore a baggy pair of sweatpants. "My door!" Clary exclaimed. "I never thought I would see that thing again."

Jace gave her a condescending look. "What made you think that? It was only temporary. Maryse sent us a message earlier, said I could put the doors back on their hinges."

"Thank you," Clary said. He shrugged nonchalantly. He was keeping up with an air of indifference. "Are you going to come and join me, or keep darkening my doorway?"

"I thought that was Simon's job."

Clary forced herself not to roll her eyes. She walked over to Jace, put her hands on his face, and kissed him lightly. "You're angry," she told him. Jace didn't answer. "What did I do?"

Jace covered Clary's hands with her own. "You are just too irresistible," he answered after a long silence. "When I saw you with that guy—"

"Tristan," Clary reminded him, but mentally kicked herself when she heard Jace take in a quick, sharp breath. Apparently he was a touchy subject.

Jace let go of Clary, stepped into her room, and continued to speak with his back to her. "When he kissed your hand, he had this look in his eyes like he was trying to devour you with the kiss. His eyes looked hungry, like you were going to be his next meal. I couldn't stand seeing him any longer. I had to get you away from him." He turned around to face her again. Clary wasn't surprised to see the anger still burning in his golden eyes. She had grown used to his mood swings.

She closed the door quietly, locking the handle, even though she guessed that Alec would not return until the next morning, and Isabelle wouldn't bother coming into her room anyway. Jace didn't seem to notice her subtle action, and had found a spot on the floor to glare at.

"What do you need to me do to show you that I only want you Jace? I was being friendly to the guy because I was lonely." Clary felt odd, trying to prove to Jace that the evening's events were no big deal. He was the master of nonchalance.

"I just can't get it out of my head what he said to you, about running into another demon..."

"He must know about the battle in Idris, that's all," Clary lied, her cheeks flushing a traitorous pink. Luckily Jace was still looking at the floor.

"He called you _angel,_ Clary," he looked up at her when he spoke this time. "He must know something about your blood."

Clary hadn't put much thought into those few passing words. She had just wanted to get out of the uncomfortable situation as fast as possible. She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I think it might just be a nickname he gives women," Clary tried to persuade Jace. Not that she believed a word of it. "Let's just forget it, for tonight at least," she amended. "My bed has missed you."

Jace didn't smile at her comment. Clary sighed loudly. She was going to have to be the one to initiate any kind of affection this evening.

She took three short steps to stand in front of Jace, and placed her hands on his biceps, giving them a gentle squeeze. There was a flicker of emotion that passed his features, and Clary moved her hands onto Jace's neck, pulling his head down to her height. When their lips touched it was a very gentle and innocent kiss. Jace responded half heartedly, his lips moving only slightly in response to hers, his hands softly holding her hips. But Clary didn't want him to be gentle; she wanted the fierceness he had shown in the laundry room, gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises.

She opened her mouth, licking at Jace's bottom lip, trying to gain entry. When he didn't comply, Clary broke away from him, frustrated to no end. "Where is your passion?" she growled at him. "You tell me how angry Tristan made you, so why do I not see any of that anger now? Why won't you just take me?" In her rant, Clary threw up her arms, her towel falling off quickly. She turned away from Jace, walked over to her bed and bent over to pick up her pyjamas.

Jace's hands startled her, placed heavily on her hips. She couldn't help the sudden surge of warmth spreading into her nether region. He had the magic touch to have her turned on instantly. He pushed her firmly, until her knees buckled and she was leaning over her bed. He roughly lifted her until she was kneeling on all fours on her bed. His breath was hot on her ear as he bent over her, his erection firmly planted between her thighs. His pants were gone. "You want me to take you like this?" he questioned. Clary shivered in anticipation.

"Yes," she breathed out.

Jace ran his fingers up and down her spine, causing more goose bumps to erupt on her over heated skin. His lips followed the pattern his fingers had made, stopping at her shoulder. "I'm not going to be gentle," he warned her in a husky voice.

"Don't be," Clary breathed.

Jace plunged two fingers into her already very wet core. Despite his suggestion that he was going to be rough, he was still making sure she was ready. His fingers pulled out, finding their way into her hair, pulling on it roughly, just as his hot, thick member pushed into her. Jace didn't take his time to set a rhythm for the both of them to meet. He pounded into Clary's core, sending wave after wave of intense please up her spine. She couldn't help but moan at the deep thrusting their position caused.

Without warning, Jace bit Clary's shoulder hard enough to break the skin. She cried out in a mixed emotion of pleasure and pain, as a light trickle of blood dripped onto her blanket. She briefly thought of having to do laundry, and the memory of her heated kiss with Jace in the laundry room sent a new wave of heat to her core.

Jace pulled out suddenly. Clary turned around, letting herself lie on her back. Jace brought himself back down on her, plunging his dick into her once again at a very fast pace. Clary wrapped her legs around his slender hips, trying to get as much friction between the two of them as possible.

There was sweat beading on Jace's temple. Clary pushed herself up on her forearms to lick the shinny skin by his eye. Jace let out a loud moan, his hands gripping tightly on her rib cage. "Clary..." he managed to mumble.

"Keep going," Clary whispered in his ear. "This feels amazing."

Encouraged by her words, Jace drove himself deeper into Clary, completely filling her with his manhood. She couldn't help but let a throaty moan escape her lips. It was all becoming too much, and she could feel her walls beginning to clamp down on Jace. Her orgasm hit her hard and strong, and she couldn't help but yell Jace's name in the process.

Jace continued to pound into her, his body slick with sweat. Clary murmured his name in his ear, kissed him roughly on the lips, bringing him to his own exhilarating orgasm. He shouted a few curses loudly as he released everything into Clary, only to collapse on top of her when his body stopped convulsing.

They lay still entwined for minutes, both needing to catch their breath. Jace was the first to talk. "Fuck, that was good."

Clary nodded her agreement.

"Maybe you should get mad with me a little more often," Jace laughed as he spoke. "I think anger is an aphrodisiac for me."

Clary raised her eyebrows. "If you say so..."

Jace laughed whole heartedly. The weight of anger had long left his body. He pulled out of Clary, rolled to his side, and let his legs dangle over the side of the bed. Clary pulled herself half on top of him, their naked chests flushed together. She kissed him again, but it was tender and full of love. Jace wove his fingers into her hair again, this time gently pulling at her roots. Clary cooed in response.

When his hand drifted down her neck and onto her shoulder Clary couldn't help but let out a slight gasp of pain. Jace dropped his hand, a ghost of a grin on his lips. "I suppose you'd like me to heal that one?"

Clary nodded her head in agreement. She wasn't too keen on explaining that injury to Isabelle. She sat still as Jace drew a perfect _iratze_ on her shoulder, only moving when he kissed the healed cut.

"I don't think there is anything I can do about the bruise, though. I'm sorry Clary." Jace didn't look sorry. His eyes were gleaming, full of happiness. She wasn't going to ruin his mood.

"You can make it up to me," she mentioned slyly. Jace only smiled at her suggestion. She brought her lips back down to his, intent on showing him just exactly how she wanted him to repay her.


	5. The other man

_Disclaimer: I don't own._

* * *

For once in her shadowhunting life Clary was given the pleasure of sleeping in as late as possible without any interruptions. Jace had gotten up at the crack of dawn, whispering how he was going off to train for a few hours. He let her sleep.

She lazed in bed for a good half hour once she had woken up, slowly stretching out her tensed muscles and allowing her body to catch up with her mind. Her best friend came to mind. Simon was supposed to be at Magnus's Halloween party, he was Isabelle's date. Why hadn't he shown?

She didn't have to think about scrolling through her cell phone to his number, her fingers did it of their own accord. The line rang, and rang, and rang...

"_You've reached Simon's voicemail, leave a short message_."

Clary huffed in frustration. There was no reason for him to not answer. She clicked the phone shut after leaving a very brief message. There would be no excuses for him to still not answer his phone. He was already technically dead.

Finding no other excuse to stay in bed, Clary got up and dressed in her training gear. Unsure of who may be in the institute this day, she opted for a tank top to go over top of her sports bra and capri-yoga pants. Only Jace was given the luxury of seeing her in spandex and her sports bra. The covered up option also spared her skin from abrasions. Sparring could be fun, but it more than often turned very heated and violent. Clary was proud to say she broke Jace's nose once—even though it was completely horrifying at the time—and rubbed it in his face on the rare occasion. She'd had ribs cracked more than she wished, especially when she was up against Isabelle. That girl could really kick.

It was even kind of fun to watch Jace and Alec go at it—once she got over the sounds of bones snapping and skin splitting. She had perfected her _iratze _after the first month of training. Of course, when she first started, they were in Alicante, being taught the basics by members of the council. There was a lot of reading involved, practise drawing, and then practical training. It wasn't until they returned to New York that Jace was even allowed to show her his own tricks of the trade.

Before leaving her bedroom, she grabbed her stele, lying on her dresser. She intended to have a good work out before eating. That meant she would come away with at least a few bruises.

She wasn't surprised to find Jace and Isabelle dancing around the room. They moved so fast it was hard to follow any kind of subtle motion. They paid no attention to Clary's entrance. She sat on the ground by the door, leaning against the wall.

Isabelle and Jace were sparring without weapons. Not that that meant the amount of injuries was limited. Isabelle's cheek was bright red, an obvious punch from Jace. Her left arm hung limp at her side, possibly broken, but she was still managing better than Clary would with both arms. Isabelle lunged at Jace's side while he was stepping backwards. She managed to tackle him down to the floor, pinning his arms down with her knees. She used her right hand to grab his neck.

There was a large grin that spread across Isabelle's mouth. She was obviously pleased with their outcome. "I think I'm done here." She looked up, not at all surprised to find Clary in the room. "Care to help me with my arm?"

"Isn't it broken?" Clary asked.

"No, just out of place. You could use the practise putting bones back in place."

Clary was not fond of the idea, but obliged anyway. Isabelle was right, she could use the practise. So with delicate care Clary pushed Isabelle's shoulder back into its rightful place. When Isabelle rotated it around a few times, Clary drew a small healing rune, enough to take away the throbbing pain.

Jace, who had said nothing since Clary had been in the room, took the opportunity to wipe the sweat off his body and heal some of his cuts while the two women were occupied. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he quietly left the room. Isabelle clucked her tongue, drawing back Clary's attention.

The older girl had her arms crossed, a look of annoyance across her face. "He was horrible to work with today. Jace never puts my bones out of place."

Clary wasn't sure what to reply with. Jace was always careful, no matter who he was training with. Sparring was supposed to be a form of learning, not just a violent free for all.

She preferred combat training.

"I could talk to him," Clary finally said. "He may be willing to tell me what's on his mind."

Isabelle shook her head. "He's mad at me, that's all."

That irked Clary's curiosity. "Why would he be mad at you? Did you get into an argument before you started?"

There was a look of embarrassment on Isabelle's fair features. She never looked embarrassed. "He... well, it's kind of stupid of me to say... but I'm sure you'll find out eventually," she said. "There was this guy I met at the party last night. He said he was a Shadowhunter from out of town..."

"You brought him home!" Clary cried. "Isabelle! That's so tacky."

"I know!" she nodded her head. "And when Jace walked into my room... well, at least we were dressed. I don't know what would have happened if he actually caught us in my bed."

Clary could feel her mouth gaping open slightly. She closed it firmly. It was difficult to imagine Isabelle being so easy. She may have talked a lot, but it had always taken a lot of time and effort for any guy (of whatever species she fancied at the time) to be welcomed into her bed. Simon had been exclusively with her, up until recently. And she always had to stay at his house—with Simon being one of the dammed and all.

Her mind was working very fast, putting the pieces together. There was only one other Shadowhunter that Clary could think of.

"It was Tristan, wasn't it?" Clary demanded.

Isabelle was stunned by her assumption. "Yes. How did you know?"

"I met him there. He made Jace all kinds of jealous last night. Not that I'm complaining."

"You too had hot, jealous sex didn't you?" Isabelle asked, her eyebrows raised high into her forehead.

"We did... but you're changing the subject!" Clary objected. "I can't believe you would just let him in here."

Isabelle looked annoyed. "He is a Shadowhunter. He's allowed in here even if we have personal grudges." She walked across the room to grab a towel. Wiping her forehead clean of sweat, she headed to the door. "I think what's really bugging Jace is that he's going to be staying here for awhile. He feels threatened," she said over her shoulder.

There was a loud cracking sound that came from somewhere down the hallway and both women darted out of the training room to find the source of the sound. Clary was surprised to find the retreating back of Jace, a large wooden door being carried alongside him. It took her a moment too late to realise whose door he had stolen off its hinges.

Isabelle said nothing. Perhaps she was more used to Jace's tantrums than Clary was. The older woman only had a sly smile on her lips.

"Game on."

For the remainder of the week, doors were used in a sort of musical chair game. More than often Clary lost her door. By the fourth time it had vanished, and she had it replaced back on its hinges, Clary had managed to draw a rune on her door to keep it from being stolen again. She had long lost the patience that Jace and Isabelle had—Alec had also drawn a rune in the first day, so he was content with his siblings' odd squabble. Besides, he could always escape to Magnus's loft if he felt his younger sibling's game was too much.

Clary only saw Tristan on the odd occasion, and mostly in passing. He always seemed to be heading out of the Institute at different hours of the day.

Never before had Clary yearned for the inevitable return of Maryse and Robert so much. But luck was not on her side. Robert sent a message only two days before they were expected to return saying that they would be gone another month, tracking a demon pod somewhere in South Dakota. She never paid attention to the details of the letters; they were never addressed to her.

The refrigerator was running low on food, and Clary was no master chef. Taki's was becoming too repetitive for her, and pizza only tasted delicious if it was eaten on a rarer schedule. There were also the half-hearted attempts that Isabelle made on producing something decently edible, but they had stopped after she had broken down crying. She had tried to make dinosaur shaped pancakes, but they had reminded her of Max and she ended up burning the batter. Isabelle hadn't attempted to make any more food after that.

Jace and Alec seemed content with eating the same foods over and over. They would never complain as long as they had full stomachs. They were busy doing research in the library, anyway. Their hunger would be ignored until it was inhumanly impossible to wait any longer.

But enough was enough. Clary had to have real food again, and very soon. So she found her stash of money in her dresser and left to go to the grocery store. There was no point in asking any of the Lightwoods to come along. Isabelle was preoccupied with Tristan whenever he was actually at the Institute. Alec and Clary still couldn't be in the same room alone for longer than a few minutes—Clary suspected it had to do with his past feelings for Jace, despite his current love for Magnus. There would always be that awkward silence between them. And Jace. He was just as preoccupied as Isabelle, but with what, Clary didn't know. Most of his free time was spent in the library.

Bundled up to keep her skin protected from the cold autumn air, Clary was only a few paces out of the Institute when she heard a voice calling her name. "Clary! Wait up!"

Clary turned around, familiar with the voice. She saw a dark haired man jogging to catch up to her. It took her a moment to realise it was Tristan wrapped up under his big scarf and hat. He must have seen her leave. She didn't smile at him.

He, on the other hand was grinning from ear to ear. "Going somewhere?"

Clary nodded. "I need food. The fridge is empty of anything edible." She turned and continued to walk down the street. She only had two blocks to go.

Tristan kept up with her pace easily. "Brave woman, you are. It's freezing out here. Mind if I join you?"

She shrugged. It wasn't like he was the bad guy. She could be nice to him—even if he was fooling around with Isabelle. It just felt wrong to her.

He didn't seem to notice her indifference, just kept smiling and talking. "It would be nice to make a home cooked meal. I used to cook all the time with my aunt. Spaghetti is my speciality."

_Mmm, spaghetti. _Clary's stomach growled at the thought. "Do you think you'd mind helping me make that? I'm not the best of cooks. And I know you'll be staying the night—"

"I'm not sleeping with Isabelle anymore, Clary."

Clary stopped walking. "And why would that be of any interest to me? I don't care what either of you do behind closed doors. When there are doors on hinges."

Tristan nodded. "I know, but it kind of feels awkward staying in the Institute under the assumption that I'm just fooling around with Izzy. It was one time. She's still ogling over that vampire... Steve, or Sean—"

"Simon," Clary corrected him. "He's also my best friend."

"Sorry. But she's still very into him."

"Too bad he's playing the vanishing act right now."

There was a flicker of emotion that ran over Tristan's features for the briefest of moments. Clary wasn't sure if she even saw it, it was so fast. She continued to walk, it was too cold to stand around. Plus, they were almost there.

Tristan stayed silent for the remainder of their trip to the store. He also said very little when they were at the grocers, only making suggestions on ingredients they needed for dinner when Clary had no idea what to choose. She found it slightly intimidating that he knew so much about the spices and pastas and tomatoes that were all needed for dinner. She figured that they would just buy pre-made sauce and some random noodles. Tristan seemed to want to make it completely from scratch.

Clary paid the bill after she found other non-dinner items to bring home to eat, a bit sad that her stash of money had been crippled by her large grocery purchase. Tristan carried most of the bags back to the Institute. She was comfortable with not having to make short conversation with him again.

Jace was waiting in Clary's room once she returned from putting everything away in the kitchen. "Where were you?" he inquired. He was lounging on her bed.

"I went grocery shopping. Tristan and I are going to make dinner," Clary explained as she locked her door so she could change out of her jeans and into a comfortable pair of sweats. Jace watched her intently. His expression gave away none of his emotions.

"Are you?" he finally asked after an awkward silence.

Clary nodded.

"Am I keeping you?"

"Not really."

"Good, come here then." Jace held out his arms and Clary met them. She lay on top of him. He was cold.

"Were you outside? Your skin is freezing," she told him. Clary rubbed her hands up and down his arms, trying to heat the skin.

He nodded, but did not respond. Instead, he pulled Clary under him so he could hover above her. She smiled, excitement coursing through her body. Tristan could wait.

Clary put her arms around Jace's neck, bringing him close enough to kiss her. Their lips met with a feverish passion, both moaning at the satisfaction of their closeness. Jace didn't waste time with his kisses; he brought his tongue into her mouth quickly, tasting her.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, looking for friction to ease the slow, burning sensation between her legs. Jace responded with a slow rocking of his hips. His cold fingers made their way up her shirt, bringing goose bumps to her skin. It didn't bother her though, she was plenty hot now.

Both their shirts came off next, their bare stomachs touching. Clary gasped at Jace's body temperature. "You really need to warm up," she whispered. Jace grinned.

"Then help me."

He placed soft, wet kisses all the way down her face to her neck, her chest, and continued all the way down her smooth stomach until he reached the top of her jeans. He let his fingers trace the same pattern, only they undid her zipper and pulled her pants down and off. Clary was glad she had opted for a lacy thong, instead of her more typical plain white panties. Isabelle had made her buy a bunch of thongs after she had raided Clary's wardrobe the week before. The older woman was appalled at the lack of sexy items in her drawers.

Clary had been reluctant to wear the new underwear, but found them much more comfortable than expected. They were thin and lacy, hardly noticeable. Jace was very biased to them too, as he smiled when he saw them. He kissed his way back up Clary's body, slowly, torturously, until his lips met with hers again. When he cupped her cheeks in his hands, his skin was significantly warmer.

Being mostly naked, Clary found it only fair that Jace was matching her. She quickly undid his zipper and started to push his pants down when the door knocked. "Clary? Are you in here?"

Jace growled and pulled away from her. She though she heard him mutter _cockblocker_ quietly under his breath.

"Just give me a minute!" Clary called out. Jace moved off the bed to grab both of their shirts. He yanked his on more forcefully than necessary and tossed Clary's to her without care. Her shirt hit her in the face. He didn't pass over her jeans, so she crawled off the bed and picked them up herself. She pulled her shirt on quickly and was just finishing the zipper on her pants when Jace to pulled open her bedroom door. Tristan was leaning in the doorway, his face confused for only a moment when he saw Jace.

"Ah, sorry. I didn't know you were here too."

Jace just pushed past him in his anger.

Clary apologized for him, her cheeks burning hotly. "Sorry, he's not usually so rude."

Tristan smiled. "That's okay. He doesn't have to like me. Want to start on dinner?"

Clary agreed and followed him into the kitchen. He whistled a tune Clary didn't know all the way there. When they got into the kitchen, Clary found that Tristan had already gotten the ingredients out onto the counter.

She helped by digging out the big pot from under the counter, grabbing a spoon, and lighting the gas stove. Tristan found the knife drawer and a cutting board and quickly got the tomatoes diced. Within minutes the sauce was put together, spices, meat, and tomatoes all ready to be stirred. Clary watched in awe as Tristan adjusted the heat for the stove and stirred the sauce at the same time. She wasn't that well coordinated, even with her shadowhunting training.

After bringing the sauce to a boil, Clary was allowed to stir the sauce. She took the spoon from Tristan and sniffed the top of the pot. It was mouth watering.

"Shit!" Clary cursed as a large splatter of tomato sauce hit the linoleum floor a little ways off to the left. She went over to the sink to grab a spare cloth and bent down on her knees to clean the mess. When she stood back up, Tristan was standing right in front of her. His closeness startled her and she dropped the cloth. She went to pick it back up, but Tristan already had it in his hand. He had a lop-sided grin on his face again. Clary couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity with him.

His eyes were smouldering. Clary watched as he licked his lips quickly, and pulled in a quick breath. She could easily classify him as a very handsome man. He put his hand on her thin wrist, his fingers overlapping themselves. "You have a nasty mark here," he said.

Clary tried to turn her wrist to see, not remembering any mark, but Tristan held her wrist in a vice grip. He quickly pulled out his stele from his pocket and traced a rune on her skin. The burning lasted longer than normal, but Clary didn't object. Tristan only let her wrist go once the pain was gone. She looked at the black mark, confused. "This isn't a healing rune."

"No, it's an older type of healer. It's just different."

Different was the right definition. Clary's head was oddly blank. She felt different.

"I feel something different. I don't understand," Clary tried to explain.

"That means the rune is working."

She should have felt worried about her situation. She should have felt _something._ But Clary felt nothing. No thoughts could come to her mind.

"I know you feel something between us," Tristan said in a low voice, moving to stand right in front of her. All his goofy charm was gone—replaced with a serious vibe. He put his hands on her waist. Clary didn't object. "And I know that if I kiss you, you won't say no."

There was nothing that she could do. Her body was frozen, her mind completely focused on his hands on her waist. She let him move his face towards hers, brush hips lips across her own lightly. A sigh escaped his lips. Tristan moved his hand up from her waist, brushed her hair away from her neck, and with his other hand, he brought her closer to him. Clary couldn't react. She let him kiss her, not responding to any of his motions until he tried to deepen the kiss. "Wait!" she gasped, trying to pull herself out of his grip.

"Too late," he whispered in her ear. Clary could feel goose bumps rising on her skin. There was something terribly wrong with their situation.

She tried to scream, but Tristan had his hand over her mouth before the thought even crossed her mind. _JACE!_ She shouted in her mind, finally having clear thoughts again. Clary couldn't believe what was happening. She was pinned to the counter, no escape. Tristan was too fast, pulling out his stele, and quickly placing a rune of silence on the back of her neck.

Her training came back to her, and she kneed Tristan as hard as she could, making him gasp out in pain. She used the opportunity to push him off her and started for the door. But he was still too fast for her. He tackled her from behind, their bodies landing loudly on the floor. A soundless whoosh of air left her lungs. She squirmed, trying all the tricks she had learned from Jace to get the upper hand from her position. But there was no over powering Tristan, he was too strong.

Clary couldn't stop him from placing another rune on her back, the burning sensation lasting only seconds before her eyes drooped closed.


	6. Starlight

_Disclaimer: I still don't own this... sad, I know._

* * *

Jace contemplated intruding Clary and Tristan. It wasn't like he couldn't just be there to watch—he had been living at the Institute a lot longer than the two of them. But something in his gut told him to just stay put for awhile, perhaps cool off, maybe get in a good work out, then see if dinner was close to being finished later. He wouldn't be any help, anyway.

It was just that something about Tristan bothered him. He was familiar, in a very vague sense. Jace was reminded of someone whenever Tristan smiled crookedly. There just was no answer to it.

Instead of lying in bed, he chose to go to the library. He could always pick up on some reading—there was always more information for him to obtain. So he padded down the hall quietly and found Isabelle in the library. She was facing him, but looking down at something in her hands. Isabelle looked on the verge of tears—she never cried over nothing.

Jace moved to stand in front of her. She glanced up at him, but said nothing. Jace took the object out of her hands. It was a small photo, one that he hadn't seen since they were in Alicante. He studied the picture for a moment, taking in the dark haired boy, the lop sided grin, and the nose. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

He dropped the photo to the ground, and ran out of the room. He could hear Isabelle close behind him. When they reached the kitchen they were greeted by the smell of burning tomatoes. Jace looked around wildly, unable to take in the scene. Clary was gone.

Alec had just gotten comfortable on Magnus's couch. He was settled in for an evening of pointless movies and shameless cuddling. They had decided to stay in for their date night this particular evening. The autumn air was cold for early November, and neither man wanted to be stuck out in the miserable weather.

Chairman Meow was lounging on his boyfriend's lap, making it impossible for him to sit any closer than he was without receiving claw marks on his thighs. Alec waited patiently for the cat to grow bored of his owner and wander off somewhere else in the loft.

The cat didn't move.

Magnus must have sensed Alec's tension and soon had the cat hissing on the ground. Chairman Meow took the hint, and left the room, tail puffed and yowling. Alec couldn't help but grin. "I didn't think he was going to leave anytime soon."

"I figured. That's why I took matters into my own hands. But darling," Magnus soothed, "you can just push the cat off me whenever you want. I don't mind."

"I didn't want to be rude."

"You never want to be rude. It is kind of charming, in an odd way." Magnus shifted his legs up onto the couch so he was taking up most of the seating. He leaned over and put his arms around Alec's neck. Even after two years of being together, Alec still had that traitorous blush that crept into his cheeks. He tried to ignore it and shifted his torso to match Magnus.

The warlock licked his lips in anticipation, Alec mimicking him before leaning in to brush his lips up against the older man's. It was just as wonderful and passionate as any of their kisses. Never waning or tiring. Alec could kiss him for hours without growing tired of it. But Magnus always had better plans than just kissing.

Reaching his fingers up inside Alec's shirt, Magnus caressed the young Shadowhunter's skin. He traced the many scars that adorned his hard stomach and chest, bringing a moan out of Alec's lips. Alec responded by gripping one of Magnus's hips, pulling their bodies closer together. Magnus purred at the sensation.

Alec could feel a buzzing sensation in his pocket, but couldn't ignore it. He was always on call. He pulled away from Magnus, sending him a fleeting look of apology, and yanked his phone out of his pocket. It only took him a second to recognize the number.

"Jace?" Alec tried to ignore the scowl that ran across Magnus's face. Jace was rarely a touchy subject anymore, but he knew the warlock hated being interrupted by the blonde. "What is it?"

"It's Clary!" Jace sounded panicked. It was rare for him to lose his cool demeanour. Magnus looked worried, he could hear Jace too. "You and Magnus need to come back to the Institute. It's about Tristan... but he's not Tristan, he's Sebastian—"

"You mean Clary's brother? Jonathan?"

"No! I mean, he's the real Sebastian Verlac. The one who was supposed to be dead."

Alec was confused. "But Clary's brother is dead."

"I know," Jace was exasperated. Alec didn't get it. "Just get over here. We have to find Clary. She's been kidnapped." The line went dead, Jace obviously didn't have time to explain it properly over the phone.

Alec looked to Magnus. "Could you hear all that?"

Magnus nodded. "We should go. This sounds bad."

The two men braved the cold, not bothering to portal, in case Magnus needed all his powers. By the time they reached the Institute, Jace was in the foyer, decked out in shadowhunting gear. His nerves were getting to the best of him, and he paced back and forth across the small space. He had two seraph blades on his calves and another two on his belt. There was a stele on his belt too.

Isabelle was sitting on a chair, her hair braided behind her head, also ready for fighting. She didn't have as many angel blades on her—she only had one, and her whip.

Alec only noticed when Jace stuck out his hand to Magnus that he was holding a hair brush. It had bright, red hair in it.

Magnus took it after a moment's hesitation. He didn't need to be asked what to do, Alec knew he was going to try and track her. The warlock's hands glowed their familiar blue and his expression went blank. Alec could tell he was seeing something else, hopefully in enough detail to figure out where they had to go.

"Ah," he finally said. "He's smart. She's somewhere dark enough that I can't tell. Do you have anything of Tristan's?"

Isabelle held out a few pieces of hair, a little embarrassed. Alec knew it took a lot to make her blush. She was more than uncomfortable. Magnus took them swiftly and within moments he had a smile on his face. "This guy is either really moronic, or is planning on having company. He's outside a shed down by the harbour. I know the place."

Jace looked like he was going to walk through the doors. "Hang on." Alec had to grab his arm to stop him. "I need to grab my things. You can't just go rushing off without a plan, or us, for that matter."

Jace waited impatiently as Alec left to grab all his gear. He was back within five minutes. Magnus was standing beside Jace, looking at what seemed to be a photo. "Can I see?" Alec asked, holding out his hand. Magnus handed it over.

It was the same picture he had seen two years ago. It was of a smiling teen. It was the real Sebastian Verlac. It was also a spitting image of that guy, Tristan. "He's alive?" Alec was dumbfounded.

"That's what Jace was trying to explain," Isabelle piped up. "Sebastian wasn't killed like Jonathan had told us. He somehow survived. Now he has some secret mission of his own."

Alec let this information sort through his mind. It was simple: Sebastian Verlac had never died, Jonathan Morgenstern had never killed him, and he came to New York, under the alias of Tristan.

"I should have known it was him. He was always oddly familiar and he talked about his aunt a lot. The same aunt that sent us the picture two years ago."

"By the Angel..." Alec cursed loudly. He didn't like being tricked. "Let's go get that bastard."

Clary was roused from her unconscious by the slow dripping of water onto her face. It startled her awake and she gasped when she finally came to. She was lying on her side, her legs and arms bound by a glowing fiery ring, no doubt cast by a rune. She tried to move but the burning of the bounds scorched her skin and she cried out in pain.

There was only a little sliver of light being cast from across the dark room. It was enough for her to determine she was in some sort of shack.

"Clary?" a voice all too familiar to her called out from somewhere in the darkness.

"Simon?" she asked. "Is that you?"

Simon laughed, "I guess you got caught too. Real shame. You don't happen to have your stele do you?"

Clary hadn't had one on her before she was kidnapped. "No. But why are you here?"

"I'm not too sure. I was on my way to Magnus's Halloween party—I had this awesome jester costume—and out of nowhere this guy comes and attacks me. He was really strong, and flanked by a few Forsaken. I couldn't have escaped, even with my extra strength."

"I'm sorry."

Simon chuckled. "It's okay. At least you know why I've been out of the picture for so long."

Clary was glad she knew why, though it didn't make their situation better. They were both stuck wherever they were. Panic started to rise up in her chest. She fought hard at the tears stinging her eyes. She would not cry, she was tougher than that. She was a Shadowhunter, for crying out loud! "Isabelle hasn't been too happy either," she said, laughing despite herself. "She thought you had maybe left the state to get away from her."

Simon made a grunting sound, but he didn't respond.

There was a loud creaking sound, then a flash of light, and then it was dark again. Clary's eyes adjusted back to the darkness in time to see a face hovering in front of her own. "Tristan," she whispered. "What is this?"

He smiled at her, and put a hand on her cheek. "It's all part of the plan, my dear. Just wait."

"But why is Simon here?"

"More bait to lure in the Lightwoods."

Clary couldn't understand. "Why?" she asked, unable to stay quiet.

Tristan clucked his tongue at her and ran a hand down her face. She shivered at the contact. "Do you really think I'd be so stupid as to tell you my plan?"

"It never hurts to ask," Simon responded from the other side of the room. "I'm curious too. And possibly a little hungry. Care to let me nibble on your neck?"

Tristan was gone from Clary's view and she could only hear his soft footsteps crossing the room. There was the sound of skin being smacked and Simon moaned quietly. Then she head the distinctive sound of snapping bones. She could only assume that Tristan had punched Simon, then broken something in his strong body. There was a low chuckle, but Clary couldn't tell from which guy it came from.

Moments later Tristan was back within view, his face twisted with malice. Clary was reminded of someone she had once known. Someone she thought was dead. "Jonathan?" she asked, even though she knew he didn't quite look the same.

Tristan shook his head. "No, he's gone. The bastard ruined my life."

Clary waited quietly, not sure if he needed prompting. She tried to sit up again, but the pain in her wrists kept her from moving her arms enough to lever herself up. Tristan watched her out of the side of his eye. He crouched down in front of her long enough to pull her into a sitting position. It wasn't much more comfortable than lying on her side. Her legs were stretched out on front of her, and she had nothing to lean her back against. Sensing her discomfort, he pushed something large and bulky behind her back. It was better.

"I had my theories about you," Tristan started again. "Jonathan told me how his father had put demon blood into him and had done something similar to his sister. That's why I sent that demon after you on Halloween, and before that, it was a Forsaken warrior—I think it was sometime around your birthday. Isabelle told me about the infinity rune you created. That stupid girl really needs to learn to keep her mouth shut. But if she hadn't said anything, I could never be sure. You have an amazing ability, Angel." He kneeled beside her, whispered in her ear, "I just had to have you for my own."

Clary cringed when he kissed her on the lips. There was nothing affectionate about his action. He was claiming her with his lips. "As much as I hate Jonathan, I hate the Lightwoods more. But you," he paused to run his nose down her throat, "I'll make an exception for you."

If it weren't for Jace's longer legs, Isabelle would have been in front of their group. No one was as hell-bent on killing Tristan that she was. Not even Jace and he was murderous.

Magnus had created a portal that led them within a hundred yards of the shack that Clary was being held captive in. It would have been completely dark, had there not been a large spot light shining down on the harbour. It made hiding in the shadows impossible. Isabelle had her electrum whip in her hand before the first of the Forsaken even glanced their way. The first one to attack lost its head before it could even utter a cry of warning. She wasn't fast enough to stop the second Forsaken warrior from yelling in outrage, but she did cut it off half way through its warning.

Everyone had at least two warriors to fight on their own—Jace had four, but Isabelle suspected that he preferred being so outnumbered, there was a slight smile on his face. He looked light a glowing whirlwind, with two angel blades in his hands. Alec was standing at a distance from his opponents, his arm moving so fast that it was hard to see when he pulled out a new arrow for his bow. Magnus was close by Alec, shooting blue and green sparks from his hands. Everyone was preoccupied.

Isabelle's next two opponents had lost enough limbs that they smartly started to retreat. But she wouldn't let them go alive. Too far out of her whip's range, she flung two daggers at once, both hitting their desired targets. The two Forsaken warriors fell, dead before they touched the ground. She had her sights on her next target and sprinted off before anyone could call out to her.

There was a loud cry from outside, and Tristan whipped his head up towards the sound. He couldn't help but smile. _They're here._

Clary made a sound that was somewhere between a cry and a laugh. Tristan looked at her. She was grimacing, fighting the restraints on her ankles and wrists. He really didn't like seeing her in pain. He brought out his stele and changed the rune on her ankle. The bound disappeared and Clary sighed in relief.

Next, he moved away from Clary and walked towards the exit, having to side step the vampire. He was knocked out good. There was no chance that he would wake up on his own now. The bright light of the spot light distorted his vision.

He was reminded of his past, when everything had changed for him. It was much the same with the light, blinding him, leaving him defenceless. Jonathan had used light to his advantage, capturing him easily. Tristan had cried for mercy, a weakness he had never given into before. But Jonathan had not let him go—instead he kept him hidden away in a dark cellar, occasionally stopping by to tell him of his hatred of the Lightwoods and their adopted brother. The other Jonathan, his captor had sometimes referred to him as, though it was usually just Jace. Tristan liked to think of the two men by those two different names. It was easier to distinguish them.

Through Jonathan's frequent visits, Tristan had begun to hate them too. But not Clary—as much as Jonathan hated Clary, Tristan could not. Perhaps after a month of being nearly-starved and deprived of any normal human contact had been his downfall. He often wondered if it hadn't been for Jonathan's constant ramblings that he wouldn't hate them at all. It was all speculative now. The 'what ifs' were insignificant. Tristan would carry out the plan Jonathan had originally had.

It was when Jonathan had died, and Tristan had managed to escape that he changed his name. Sebastian was weak, hardly considered a Shadowhunter. Tristan was a different man. He was a careful and cunning person. It took him two years to properly formulate his plan. He wasn't very smart, he himself knew it, and so everything had to be well thought out.

His eyes adjusted to the light, just in time for him to see Isabelle charging from his right. He had his angel blade out fast enough to block her first crack of her whip.

Clary had learned a very important piece of information from Isabelle from shopping once. Men can fall for almost any faked emotion. So she put the theory to the test, not really having to act—more like hamming it up for show—and twisted her face enough to make it seem like she was in a lot more pain than she was. It worked, and Tristan removed the bound from her ankles. Relief flooded her senses as he left the room she was in, leaving her alone with Simon.

He hadn't made a sound since he teased Tristan, and Clary hoped he was still whole enough to help. She struggled to make it to her feet, pushing against the heavy bin that was supporting her back, until she was upright. Stumbling over her feet in the process, she made it over to where she could see the silhouette of Simon's body. From the dim light she could see how awful he looked. He was unconscious, but there was a motion behind his eyelids that indicated he was still okay. His neck was tilted at an awkward position, broken from the looks of it.

Simon had been there for over a week, and Clary knew he must have been starving. No vampire could go that long without struggling. It was no wonder Tristan could snap his neck so easily. There was only one way for her to help him, and she was almost glad for the abrasions on her wrists. She knelt down beside him, twisted her wrists against the fiery brace, and let the blood drip down her arm and onto Simons parted lips. There was a good flow of blood from her wrist, but still no reaction from Simon.

Clary collapsed beside him, defeated. Her arms hurt too much to continue. "I'm sorry you got dragged into all this... again," she told Simon. His mouth twitched.

"Clary..." he moaned. His eyes fluttered open. "My neck..." he barely got out.

Clary understood. She had to move his neck back properly. It was hard, but she ignored her wrists and moved his head the best she could, cupping his forehead in her hands. There was a loud cracking sound, and Clary waited.

His fingers moved slightly, then his legs. His eyes fell closed again as he took in a long, unnecessary breath. His eyes only opened once he rotated his neck a few times. "Wow, I feel a lot better."

Clary laughed and put her hands on one of his. "Do you think you feel good enough to get us out of here? I think the others are outside."


	7. Fortunate Fool

_Disclaimer: It all belongs to Cassandra Clare._

* * *

Jace had just cut the head off the last of the Forsaken when he noticed that Isabelle had disappeared. Alec must have noticed too because he had asked Magnus, "Have you seen Isabelle?"

The warlock shook his head in response, but pointed to the docks. "Perhaps she went looking for Clary. That looks like the shed I saw. Let's start there."

But Jace didn't have time for them to plan a strategy; he went sprinting off as soon as Magnus pointed out the place. It was a minute later when he reached the backside of the shed. He halted when he heard Isabelle's voice.

"I shouldn't have told you anything. You're such a hateful bastard."

There was a deep, masculine laugh. "And you're quite vain. I can see why Simon disappeared on you." There was a clatter of metal; Jace could only assume she had brought out one of her seraph blades. "Testy, aren't you?"

Isabelle sneered, "at least I don't whine and complain about an aunt that I hardly miss. You could have just gone back to her Sebastian."

"Oh, but Sebastian is dead. It's Tristan now."

Jace took Isabelle's silence as the opportune moment to step out from behind the shed. "If I know anything about name changes, it's that it's best to stick to the one that everyone knows best. Sebastian," he addressed the other man. Jace had one of his blades in his hand, ready for any attack.

Tristan had two blades in his hands, though his right arm seemed to tremble holding it. There was a pool of blood collecting at his feet. Isabelle had managed to get her whip on him already. But she was also standing funny, leaning heavily on her left leg. He'd managed to get close enough to hurt her. Jace gripped his blade tighter.

"Got any more tricks up your sleeves? Or was that the worst you could send us?"

Tristan smirked, it was an ugly sight. "Oh, I have more for you."

At that moment Alec whipped into view, his seraph blade held high and ready to strike. Jace turned around just in time to see several ravener demons crawling into sight. Despite their bulky size, they moved fast, barring razor-sharp teeth and swinging their deadly tails. Isabelle reacted first, drawing her whips back and sending it flying toward the closest demon. She managed to slice a large chunk of its dome shaped head off. It was gone before it was completely dead. She didn't hesitate, attacking the next one in her range.

Not wanting to miss out on the action, Jace advanced forward, flanked by Alec, who had shown up moments after Isabelle had made the first strike. The raveners were fast, but Jace was tall and quick enough to jump over the crowd, catching them off guard. He slashed at three tails at once, spilling a line of ichor on the ground. Angered, but not dead, the three demons turned on him—their teeth their only weapons now.

"_Kill... kill," _they all seemed to chant. "_Food. Eat."_

There was no mistaking their hisses, their black tongues hanging from their mouths, dripping a greenish fluid. "You're so disgusting," Jace spat at one, as it lunged at him. He tried to side step it, but another jumped at him, tearing into his arm. It made a long gash across his bicep, rendering a groan of pain from Jace.

As strong as Simon was, there was no way he could open the metal door. He hadn't fed enough, and there was no way he was going to ask Clary for more of her blood. He would rather starve.

But he knew they needed to get out. He could hear the fighting outside the shed they were in, and it was getting a lot closer. His hearing picked up on Isabelle's voice, and his breathing hitched. She was right outside the door and so was Tristan.

"You lied to me," she spoke evenly.

There was a pause. Then Tristan spoke. "It was all necessary. Besides, not all of it was a lie. I told you the truth about where I lived. A slip up, on my behalf, but you didn't pick up on it. I guess you're only really good in bed, and not much else. I know how terrible your cooking is—the others complain about it on a regular basis."

Simon heard a cracking sound, and the low growl that must have been Tristan.

"You're such a hateful bastard. I shouldn't have told you anything."

"And you're quite vain. I can see why Simon disappeared on you."

Simon heard Clary take in a quick breath. She could hear the conversation almost as well as he could.

"I can't believe he's lying to her still."

They both turned their heads to the back of the small shed as a glowing light lit up the small space. Simon covered Clary as best as he could with his body as the back end of the shed blew in. His eyes recovered from the light change fast enough to see a very tall man, and a standing in front of the debris. Even without his usual decor of glitter, he was recognizable.

"Magnus Bane," Simon smiled as he spoke.

"In the flesh."

Clary stepped forward, her arms stretched out in front of her. Magnus's eyes flickered down to her wrists. He understood what she needed, and soon had his hands shining with his blue magic. She sighed when the burning restraints disappeared, rubbing her hands gingerly over the wounds.

"Want me to heal those too? They look awful."

Clary shook her head. "There's no time. We have to help the others."

Magnus looked impressed. Simon grimaced. As much as he opposed drinking human blood, the scent of hers was still strong enough to bring out his fangs. His lip tingled as his incisors nipped his bottom lip.

All three of them had their attention caught as Tristan came into view. Simon watched as he stumbled back, the fresh scent of blood over powering Clary's. Jace was there too, leaping forward to take a fatal swipe at Tristan.

"STOP!" Clary cried, running forward.

Miraculously, the poison didn't manage to find its way into his system and Jace stabbed the offending demon right in its snout. He followed suit with the other two, leaving no more room for mistakes. His pursuit brought him way out of range of the shed. He made a move to run back to the doors but Tristan reappeared and lunged at him.

Jace had his work cut out for him, as much as his father had trained him, Tristan had had enough training to test him. They flitted around each other, their blades constantly clanging together but their bodies staying out of range. Tristan started to lunge, but feinted to the side, drawing Jace out of his protective stance. Vulnerable, sprang forward, ducking into a roll and jumping up right in front of Tristan. He wasn't expecting it and stumbling backwards, letting Jace take a long swipe at his stomach.

The Angel blade cut through his shadowhunting gear easily enough, brandishing a scarlet liquid when Jace whipped it back. Tristan hesitated, Jace did not.

He lunged forward, intent of cutting his throat when a single voice cried out: "STOP!"

His blade stopped within an inch of Tristan's throat. Jace whipped his head up in surprise to find Clary hovering behind him. Her wrists were bleeding and her face was filthy. There was a large gash at both of her ankles and blood had already stained her bare feet. The faint outline of a black rune was fading from her wrist. Jace knew that binding rune.

Tristan took Jace's distraction to back up a few paces, but Alec caught him by surprise and Simon had appeared out of nowhere, his incisors handing dangerously out of his mouth. Simon gave Jace a fleeting smile, before looking at Isabelle. Alec already had his stele out, placing a rune of silence on his neck and a less violent binding run on one of his wrists. Tight, metal ropes appeared, keeping Tristan's hands locked together.

Only once he was sure that Tristan was secure, did Jace drop his weapon and pull Clary into his arms. She held herself stiff, as is she was uncomfortable with his touch. He let her go, but held onto her hand. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Clary shook her head.

"You have no shoes," he pointed out.

She looked down at her stained feet. "Okay," she said quietly.

Jace picked her up bridal style, and Clary put her arms around his neck, burying her face in his neck. He could smell her hair, having her head so close to him, and a feeling of longing took over his body. "Magnus," he addressed the tall warlock, "will you escort our friend here back to the Institute? I don't think a portal straight into the guard would work best in our favour."

Magnus smirked. "Of course. Alec, darling, care to help me with him?"

Obligingly, Alec nodded and took hold of one of Tristan's arms. The captive didn't struggle or move at the contact. His eyes held no emotion.

It was moments later and Magnus had opened up a portal. He let Alec walk through with Tristan, keeping his eyes glued to his boyfriend, then followed. Jace was about to go through when he noticed that Isabelle and Simon were still standing awkwardly side-by-side. "You two want to walk home?" he asked. Isabelle nodded. "Okay," he said. He took two long strides and was toppling through the portal, back to the Institute.

It took less time than Clary could have imagined for the Clave to respond and send out a crew to collect Tristan. She watched from a chair in the Library as he was handed over from Alec to a tall, older looking man, just a little sad. He had been so nice in the beginning. Even though he was crazy and murderous, she still felt for him. Jonathan had done something even more twisted and cruel to him than she suspected Tristan was letting on.

She still couldn't think of him as Sebastian. Sebastian was dead, just like Tristan had said. The boy from the picture had been long ago replaced by a hideous shadow of the boy. But she didn't want to dwell on the fact.

The new portal closed quickly, removing the sight of the guards and Tristan. She never wanted to see him again, but she knew that if a trial were to happen—and Alec had assured them it was most likely—they would all have to travel to Idris and stand before a council in Alicante. It sent shivers down her spine, thinking about having to see him again.

Once Alec and Magnus had shuffled out of the room, Clary felt that odd sense of discomfort being around Jace. She knew it was silly, but she still felt like she had somehow betrayed him. Tristan had been the one to kiss her; she had been helpless against him. Maybe it was more embarrassment than anything.

Either way, Jace had sensed her reluctance right off the bat. He was keeping a distance from her. When he turned his back to her to talk with Alec, she got up and slipped out of the library, intent on taking a shower. She made it into her room uninterrupted, but Jace was there before she could close her door. She let him in, and he closed the door behind him, locking it, then finalising it with a rune.

Clary turned her back on him, fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. She had forgotten to heal her wrists and they were still dripping a little bit of blood. "Shit," she cursed, grabbing the front of her blouse and pulling it violently open. There was the fulfilling sound of her buttons hitting the wall and floor, and she laughed, despite her low mood.

A warm pair of hands held hers, and Jace's gaze bore into her face. She looked away, ashamed. "Hey," he pulled up her chin to make her look at him, "if you wanted to strip for me, you're facing the wrong way." He smiled in a way that let her know he was teasing her—trying to ease some of the tension between them. It was more like Jace, always playing it light.

"Help me take off my clothes?" she asked, trying to sound normal. It sort of worked.

"Let me fix your hands first, they have to be hurting." He had his stele in his hand before she could nod in compliance. The burning of the stele was nothing compared to the relief of the pain. She sighed and let her eyes flutter closed for a moment. Jace's face was hovering in front of hers when she let her eyes open again.

The gold of his eyes was very fluid and warm. Clary couldn't help but lean into him. She tilted her head up, enough for Jace to bring his lips down onto hers. He kissed her gently, slowly massaging her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth to him and their tongues lazily met.

She let her hands tangle up in her hair, like she always liked to and Jace responded by placing his hands around her back, tracing slow patterns on her bare skin. He removed her bra after a moment, and Clary helped him pull off what was left of his fighting gear. They both sighed at the contact of their naked flesh. Her nipples peaked at the sensation, hardening when Jace groped them one at a time.

Her pants were next, quickly undone by Jace's practised hands; it didn't take long until they were both naked and tangled up with one another, standing in the middle of the room. Clary broke away from their kissing to pull Jace to her bed. He was more than willing as he climbed up on top of her, his erection pressing into her belly. But they took it slow, generating more heat between the two of them, until Clary couldn't stand the burning between her thighs.

Gripping Jace, she moved so he could be placed right outside her slick opening. "No more stalling," she breathed.

Jace agreed with a kiss, moving his hand over hers, so they both guided his shaft into her. They moaned in unison as Jace began a slow and steady thrust inside her. Clary bent one knee up, and threw the other over Jace's hip, wrapping it around his lower back. It allowed Jace to push even farther into her, hitting her in spots she hadn't been reached in a long time. He had one hand on her right hip, the other in her hair.

Neither rushed their lovemaking, relishing in the reunion of the evening. Clary crooned as Jace kissed her neck, sucking on the spot where it met her shoulder. She gripped his shoulders, urging him to continue.

Sweat was beading on her forehead, and she whipped it off with the back of her hand. Jace took her hand before she could move it back to his shoulder, and kissed her newly healed skin. He kissed her lips again, panting slightly. It didn't take long, and Clary's first orgasm began to claim her. She could feel her walls contracting in their familiar rhythm and called out Jace's name.

She moaned loudly as she peaked, Jace still pushing inside her. She gripped his buttocks, giving it a squeeze, and Jace's hands clamped down on her hips, his head rolling back. He rocked into her for a few more paces, then let himself go. Clary could feel his warm seed dripping out of her as he pulled away.

He moved off of her, letting himself collapse beside her on the bed. She waited until both their breathing returned to normal before speaking up. "As wonderful as that was, I still need a shower."

"Have my lovemaking skill not tired you out?"

"Not yet."

"I'll have to work on that, then." He winked at her before standing up, pulling Clary along with him.

She propped herself up on the counter as Jace set the perfect temperature for the shower. Picking at a scab on her knee, she didn't realise what Jace was actually doing until he pulled her off of the counter and placed her down in the tub. It was filled to the brim in bubbles and she couldn't help but giggle at the sight. "I'm not five."

Jace shook his head, "You don't like it?"

"No, I do" she protested. "I just haven't had a bubble bath since I was really little. I can't even remember the last time I had one."

He had his devilish smile on his face quickly. "This isn't going to be any kind of child play."

"Close the curtain when you get in."

Jace stepped into the large tub, pulling the shower curtain shut behind him, effectively closing out the rest of the bathroom. He knelt behind her and began to slowly massage her shoulders; the knots in her muscles releasing themselves, bringing a quite sigh out of her mouth. He took his time on each part of her back; pushing on her spine with the right pressure; carefully rubbing around spots where bruises were forming; moving back up to her neck, letting the kinks out.

Next, he reached for the shampoo, after effectively soaking her unruly hair, getting the dirt and grime of the last day out of her curly. Once it was rinsed out into the tub, he kissed the top of her head. Then he thoroughly scrubbed her body of the caked on dirt she had managed to get all over herself. He was most careful of her arms and legs, though they no longer hurt.

She felt herself nodding off, completely relaxed in his capable hands. Noticing her slowly dipping head, Jace moved one hand onto her stomach, tracing a short and deliberate path to her crotch. He had no intentions of letting her sleep while they were in the hot water.

A flood of heat rushed to the centre of Clary's legs, effectively waking her back up. Jace slipped a finger into her when she moaned at his initial touch. He chuckled darkly. Her hips rocked against his hand, and he begun to pump in and out of her, slipping two more fingers in. Her second orgasm of the night was already creeping up on her, but she wasn't ready to let go yet. She placed a hand over Jace's and his motions stilled. "I need you inside me again," she purred.

He helped her as she turned her body around to face him, both kneeling in the water. She pushed away the bubbles to find Jace just as hard as he was before. She smiled, knowing it was her who did this to him; and so easily at times, too. "Why don't you sit down?"

Jace didn't have to be told twice, he sank down off his knees, not much shorter than Clary, despite her kneeling still. She bent down to kiss him hard on the mouth, letting their tongues battle for dominance while she positioned herself over him. His hands found her hips, helping to guide her back down, fully encompassing him. She didn't waste time and moved herself up and down, splashing some of the water out and under the curtain, effectively soaking part of the floor.

Her name spilled out of Jace's lips in a sort of chant: "_Clary... Clary... Clary..."_ He kept moaning her name and Clary realised just how hurt he had been when she disappeared.

"I'm here," she whispered in his ear. "I'm not going to disappear again."

Her voice seemed to work as a trigger and Jace came quickly the second time, his hands securely gripping her waist. Clary followed him moments later, letting her head drop down onto his shoulder. She was very grateful for Jace's stamina as he helped her stand back up. He pulled the plug and turned on the hot shower cap, rinsing all the soapy bubble off their bodies before they stepped back onto the tiled floor. He even took the time to towel off her body, before picking her up and carrying her back to her bed.

"You're awful chivalrous," she commented as he climbed into the bed with her.

"It's one of my many talents, along with making girls swoon and keeping up the mysterious and badass attitude—not," he added, more for the sake of his reputation than anything, "that I'm going to let you in on that little secret."

"There's a secret to being badass?"

"Yes." He kissed her swiftly before she could press for more information. "Now go to sleep you poor little creature. Before the monsters come out from under the bed."


	8. It ends tonight

_Disclaimer: I own the imaginary park bench... at least I think I do._

* * *

Isabelle thought that after the portal closed Simon would say something. She played with the handle of her whip, pushed her hair back over she shoulders, and even sighed loudly. Nothing. He said nothing. In fact, he wasn't even looking at her. His attention was stuck on what was left of the prison he had stayed in. It wasn't much bigger than a two-car garage and no longer resembled much of anything. When the back part of the wall was blown open, the roof began to slowly collapse. It would only take a minor wind and the whole thing may fall down.

After a long time of just looking at the shack, Simon finally turned away and faced Isabelle. He was filthy, covered in dirt and dust. The clothes he wore were too big and sloppy to be his own. His hair was more dishevelled than usual, sticking up in the back like someone had licked his head. Even his posture wasn't the same. His shoulders were hunched much like they were when he was human. Vampire Simon never hunched. He was much more positive and outgoing than human Simon.

She walked over to him and took his hand. It was cool to the touch, just as she was used to. Simon's chest heaved with an unnecessary amount of breath. "Are you crying?" she asked.

"No," he growled. Then he looked at her, his face screwed up in anger. "I'm actually pissed off. How is it that I go missing for a week and no one really worries, but Clary disappears for a whole evening and everyone comes running after her? I know Jace is overprotective, but it seems kind of ridiculous." Simon's fangs came down, cutting into his lower lip.

Isabelle placed a hand on his face, trying to calm him. It helped slightly, but she still said "I knew there was something wrong, the whole time. It's just that I didn't want to admit that the worst could have happened. You're already dead, so what else could it be? I just figured you were tired of me and went out of state. Maybe to find Maia..." She let her words trail off, a bit ashamed. She didn't have a real excuse, she should have worried. Isabelle was just too proud to admit that she worried over anything.

She looked into Simon's eyes, so dark and hungry. He must have been starving all week because his gaze kept flickering to her very exposed neck and chest. He must have heard the fluttering of her heart and the beating of the blood in her body. Usually it was just an aphrodisiac, used to lure him into bed, but this time it created hunger.

Her arm stuck out of its own accord, an offering of so many things. Simon's anger dissipated immediately, his eyes popping open at her offer. "I can't, Izzy. It's so wrong." He shook his head, as if trying to erase the hunger that was so obvious in his body. But she didn't move her arm, keeping it at eye level. She even flexed the muscles in her arm, willing the blood to flow louder.

"You're starving. Take some."

She knew his objection was faltering when he took her arm in his cold hands. He ran his nose up her forearm, taking pleasure in the scent of her blood. It sent chills down her spine, but also gave her a jump of excitement, too. His incisors were still down, and Isabelle took a chance shoving her arm into his face, cutting the skin on his sharp teeth. Blood dripped fast down her arm, pooling at her elbow before trailing to the ground. Simon gasped and dropped her arm, stepping back.

Isabelle frowned, but didn't give up. She was relentless.

She traced the trail of blood with her other hand, making sure to drench one of her fingers in her own blood. She placed her finger on Simon's closed lips. He quickly licked the blood off his lip, moaning quietly. "Please?" Isabelle asked him.

He didn't object the second time she offered her arm. He took it in his hands and brought it to his face, licking the trail of blood off her arm first, before sinking his teeth into the small cut.

It didn't hurt, precisely, but it was uncomfortable. Isabelle kept very still and quiet as Simon quickly drank her blood. Soon, it became pleasurable and her eyes rolled back into her head, a long sigh escaping her lips this time.

Simon finished quickly, not taking necessarily an adequate amount, but enough to brighten his eyes and remove the immediate pains. He applied pressure to her new wound, taking overly cautious measure to make sure it would stop bleeding. A stele would work just as effectively, but he seemed to need to take extra care of her.

Isabelle smiled, happy. Simon returned the gesture. "Thanks," he said sheepishly.

Isabelle nodded. "Let's get out of here." She grabbed his hand and pulled him along, eager to leave the harbour. She looked over her shoulder at the dark sea, knowing that the sun wouldn't come up for hours, but still wanting to be home before the light of the next day.

They walked, hand in hand, for a long time in silence. Isabelle knew the path back home by heart, and her feet carried her, only stopping once they were in Central Park. It was here that they shared their first confessions of love. In fact, they were almost to the bench where they first...

She stopped when she saw their bench. Simon must have realised the same thing that she had just concluded, because he let out a shaky laugh. "Wow, I don't think I've been to this part of the park since, the um... christening."

Not liking the sudden awkwardness between them, Isabelle made the first move, pulling Simon flush against her and kissing him with all that she could muster. His lips where just as cold as the rest of him, but it always seemed to work for them. His cold body always kept her hot one from overheating.

Isabelle's fists unclenched from Simon's shirt, resting open instead. His hands went around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him. He moaned as she licked his lower lip, demanding he open it. Always, he obliged, letting her tongue carefully play in his mouth, making sure to not bring down his incisors.

But it wasn't enough. Kissing was never enough for the both of them, and Isabelle found herself being placed down on their bench before she realised they had even moved. The park was deserted, at least where they were. Their bench was in an out of the way spot, surrounded by tall trees and shrubs.

Simon was on top of her, carefully balanced on the wood, sucking Isabelle's neck enough to create a large bruise. She would have to heal it before she got back to the Institute, but for now she wore it proudly.

His hands began to roam, tracing patterns against her tight, leather corset and pants. She knew they couldn't take the time they wanted, not out in a public park, so she moved her hands deliberately into the elastic band of Simon's pants and grabbed his half erect penis. It didn't take long for it to come up fully, and she gripped it harder, moving her hand up and down the shaft.

Simon responded by tugging at the top of her pants, forcefully moving the leather down off her hips, letting them gather at her ankles, exposing her bare flesh. "No underwear?"

Isabelle gave him her best sex vixen look. "I didn't have the time."

"When do you ever?" He laughed before kissing her again. They had to break off to get Isabelle's boots undone, letting her loose her pants completely. Her belt stayed on her waist, her whip coiled up. The cool air was no longer affecting her body temperature.

From her position, it was very hard to remove any of Simon's clothes, so with a little hint, he pulled his own pants down past his waist, kicking them off forcefully. He didn't have to check to know Isabelle was ready. She was always ready for him. He slid in quickly, Isabelle knowing how warm she felt to him. His eyes rolled back at the sensation, turning Isabelle on more knowing it was her body doing it to him.

She let her legs wrap around his lower back, taking their familiar position, simultaneously allowing Simon to pushing farther into her. Her hands held onto his neck, pulling his face down to hers so they could share another heated kiss.

Simon's arms made their way under her shoulders, cradling her head. Even with the small space of the park bench, they still had plenty of room. But they didn't have time, and they both knew it. Isabelle grabbed the end of Simon's shaft, the part that couldn't completely bury into her and began to rub it in rhythm of his thrusts.

In response, Simon groped Isabelle's clothed breasts, squeezing them and kissing the top of her exposed skin. They both moaned and panted, the sensations they were creating driving them quickly to their orgasms.

Simon was the first to release, his pumping becoming more and more erratic until he completely stilled inside her. Isabelle finished moments later, her walls squeezing and coating Simon. They didn't have to say anything when their breathing finally returned to normal.

They continued their silence as they gathered they garments, and properly dressed once again. Isabelle caught Simon's eyes as he sneaked a last glance at her bare ass. She took his hand once they were decent, pulling him along once again. There was a sense of dread that was creeping into her mind though, and as much as she wanted to cast it away, it stayed, ever present.

Her feeling was only confirmed when Simon stopped her, only a block away from the Institute. "Izzy..." he half-whispered, half-pleaded.

"I don't want to talk Simon." She frowned at the pleading in her voice. She never pleaded.

"I know, but we have to," he insisted, dropping her hand. "We can't keep going along like this, knowing that somewhere down the road it has to stop, that we have to stop. I love you, and I know you feel the same, but what we have... time is about up." He shifted on his feet, a nervous human habit he still had. "I'm never going to age, even though I want to. Our age difference is going to start showing soon. You're eighteen; I'm still stuck at sixteen."

"I know!" she suddenly cried, finding her voice again. "But why now? We can just go on a few more years—"

"People will notice. You're family will begin to speak up."

"Who's going to say anything?"

"Jace, for starters. He already does when you're not around," Simon pointed out. "I can't stand to do this, but it has to happen." His voice was pleading.

Isabelle looked at him. She took in his youthful face, his slender build, and she knew he was right. She may not look _old,_ but she looked older. "You're right," she breathed. He could hear her perfectly, despite her low tone. "It has to end. But it's going to be really hard; I'm not going to just let you go easily."

Simon shook his head. "I don't want to play games Isabelle. We need a clean break. Raphael had mentioned last week that he needed me to travel across the country to meet another group of vampires. I should go soon."

She nodded slowly, knowing they were coming to the end much too fast. Couldn't they just go back to their bench? Their time there had been much too short.

"We'll see each other, just not for awhile. Time and separation to get over the heartache."

"Aren't you going to ask me about Tristan? Why I slept with him?" she stalled, trying to keep him talking.

"I don't need to know why. I understand. Izzy, I have to go now. It's late, even for you. I don't want us to be caught off guard by another demon," he said, though they both knew it was mostly a lie. "I need more blood—though yours was quite the kick to my system," he added, last. He gave her a half-hearted smile.

She didn't object this time. She let him kiss her slowly one last time. He murmured he was sorry, but she didn't hear it properly. She tried to remember all the details of that moment, where on the sidewalk they were, how he held her waist, what he smelled like, the sound of his voice.

The image of him walking away from her, his shoulders hunched again was the only memory that stuck with her after she closed the grate in the elevator. Nobody greeted her upstairs, not even the cat. But she knew they would be busy somewhere, or at least sleeping. She made her way into her room, slowly undressed, and climbed into bed. It took hours, but eventually her body let her slip into a quite, dreamless sleep.


	9. Fever

_Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments.  
_

* * *

The rest of November flew by in a hurry. Clary's training schedule had been tripled since her abduction, leaving no free time for her. Instead of training with Jace every other day, Clary was routinely practising with all three of the younger Lightwoods every morning and afternoon.

Her already toned body had begun to take on a slight muscular look, and Clary gaped in the mirror one evening at the fact that she no longer looked so soft and vulnerable. She didn't look burly—not by a long shot—but her petite frame looked capable of damage.

She went to pull her stele out of her pocket, but it caught in her pants and went flying under her bed. Grumbling, she bent down on all fours to retrieve it. She was surprised to find something else hidden under her bed. Pulling it out, she discovered her sketch book, covered in at least an inch of dust. Gingerly brushing off the offending particles, she opened the book. Scanning through it, she realised she hadn't used it since before her birthday.

Clary hugged it to her chest, silently apologizing to the inanimate object for such long months of neglect. In desperate need of a shower, Clary put in on her bed, promising to use it as soon as she was finished.

The temperature of the water was cooler than she would have liked, but hurrying herself, Clary didn't bother fixing the heat. Her hair was lathered, rinsed, and wrapped up in a towel in a matter of five minutes. She quickly pulled on some pyjamas over her damp body, knowing she wasn't going to be going out hunting that evening. Jace had told her to take the evening off, knowing full well her body was still adjusting to her new work out regime. Of course, she objected to being left behind, but Jace had promised that their tip said it was only a handful of demons. _Easy ones, _he had smirked at her before kissing her quickly and rushing to meet the other two at the elevator.

Clary suspected that the other thought she wasn't ready to fight again, not so soon after Tristan. She shuddered at the memory, being trapped in a dark shed with Simon. Even though her best friend had been a great comfort, she still couldn't help but feel upset every time her mind drifted back to that horrible day. She still hadn't told her mother or Luke what had happened. Clary wasn't even sure if she would tell her mother—she was an adult, capable of making her own decisions on what to share. It was all part of being a Shadowhunter, after all. There was always danger lurking around the corner.

Still, she knew how furious her mother would be if she found out. Clary could picture her tall figure, looming above her with her hands of her hips. Jocelyn always knew how to make Clary feel like she was five again. And there was Luke to consider too. He was her father, for all intentional purposes. He would probably stand back and shake his head, his disappointment clearly written all over his face. It was worse than her mother's vocal anger; the quiet, withdrawn disappointment.

Not wanting to dwell on her thoughts anymore, Clary dug around in her dresser for her stash of pencils. They had found their way to the back of her bottom drawer; though thankfully they were not covered in dust.

It was easier than she thought; to be able to draw without hesitation or reserves. She started simple, with trees from Central Park, to boats along a canal. Then her mind started drifting back to Alicante, and the snow-covered mountains and tall lurking towers of Idris. Her hand seemed disconnected from her mind at one point, and by the time she really looked at the final drawing she had finished, she was shocked. It was a perfect copy of the picture that would forever haunt her—those bright, happy eyes, smiling mouth, and too big nose. It was of a boy who no longer existed. It was the real Sebastian Verlac.

Her mood was spoiled, and she tossed her sketch book across the floor. It landed, unfortunately, with her last drawing facing up. Clary lay down on her bed, frustrated. She never wanted to draw him; it just seemed to stick to her mind.

For a moment, back when she was being rescued, Clary thought she was going to let Jace run his seraph blade right through Tristan. But the image of Jace being killed by Valentine had flashed in her eyes and she knew that she didn't want his death—even though he had wanted theirs. She couldn't let Jace kill. Not a human. Demons were completely different. Even her true brother was a type of demon, his blood was tainted with evil. They didn't belong, but Tristan did, despite his actions.

So she thought about the trial that still hadn't happened. She imagined having to sit in a small room with the Inquisitor, while the rest of the Council watched her from behind a hidden glass wall. Maybe even the Consul would sit her down for a private conversation.

It was silly, thinking that. The new Inquisitor was nothing like the original two. Even the Consul wasn't that scary. They were there to uphold the law, to break down criminals. Clary wasn't a criminal.

In the midst of her sulking, Jace had managed to sneak into her room. He pounced on her, causing Clary to shriek in surprise. Without thinking, she pulled her knees up and under him, successfully kicking him off her. He landed loudly on the floor, a low chuckle escaping from him. "At least I know your extra training is coming in handy. You sure can kick now." He stood up in one fluid motion, nothing clumsy about it.

Clary took in the sight of him, dressed in his sleeping gear too, with soaking wet hair. "You didn't towel your hair dry?"

Jace shook his head with much more vigour than necessary, sending little droplets of water Clary's way. She gasped as it cooled her skin. "I figured you wouldn't mind so much."

"Bad assumption." She tossed the towel she had used to let her hair dry to him. He quickly towel dried his hair, effectively removing a lot of the droplets that were previously running off. Now his hair had more of its golden shine back to it. Clary ran her hand through his long curls when he sat down beside her. "You really need a haircut. I like it longer, but this is getting ridiculous."

Jace took her hand in his and kissed it. "You just don't want to compete with me on having fantastic hair."

"Or debate over who has to clean out the drain pipe in the shower."

"I could always bat my eyes at Alec and get him to do it."

"I don't think that has worked for you in a long time."

He shrugged. "True, but I could still try it. My sex appeal is more so, now that I'm older."

"So is your arrogance," she pointed out. "I'll clean out the hair then. Spare Alec and his dignity." Clary did not want to carry on talking about a potential future of suckering Alec into anything. "But we can bypass all that by getting Maryse to cut both our hair. I'm sure I can get her to agree with me that you need to lose some length. I wouldn't mind having mine shorter. It would be easier to deal with." She fingered his hair; it was almost touching his shoulders when it was still damp. "It's kind of feminine," she joked, making sure he saw her smirk.

Jace pretended to look offended. "You degrade my masculinity! I think the ladies love it."

"I don't care what the ladies think." She sat up on her knees so she was the same height as him. "And I know you only want my opinion." She wrapped her arms around his neck.

Jace's fingers snaked around her tiny waist. No amount of training had changed its size. "Then how about I get your opinion on this..." he trailed off to close the gap between their faces. He kissed her hungrily. Clary could feel his need in the kiss, his want to be even closer to her. She could never deny him.

Jace gently laid Clary down on her back, running kisses down her face and onto her neck. He stopped at once spot to suck on the skin lightly, causing Clary to moan. She had to rub her thighs together to garner some friction; she was heating up so fast with Jace on top of her.

He must have noticed her slight movements because he placed one hand on her thigh, rubbing soft circles through the material of her pyjamas. His other hand slowly snaked its way up and under her t-shirt, his fingers splayed under the smooth skin below her breast. His thumb caressed the skin, moving up and down in a lazy fashion. She could feel her nipples peak in excitement.

His mouth was still on her neck, but it started a trail back up to her face, only brushing back against her lips softly. He moved his face away from hers, to look at her body. Clary groaned in frustration, and Jace only chuckled. "So impatient. But I do know how wonderfully talented I am, I can sympathise with you."

Clary sat up, using her arms for support. "You like my impatience," she reminded him.

Jace nodded; a devilish grin on his mouth. Clary liked that smile the best, it always led to better things. He took her wrist in his hand, and she felt the skin burning under his touch. But he didn't move to lay back down on her, instead, the smile faded from his face and he pushed off her, rushing off into the bathroom. Clary didn't have to strain to hear what he was doing.

She got off the bed quickly, and followed him into the bathroom. It was so odd seeing him hunched over the toilet, but she didn't hesitate. Quickly, she reached for the empty glass she had used that evening and filled it with water. She had to force it into Jace's shaking hand, and brushed his hair back off his face just so he could see properly. It reminded her of when she had been hung over many months previous, where the roles were reversed—only she was certain that Jace had not been drinking.

When some of the colour returned to his face, Clary put a hand on his cheek. He turned his face into her palm to kiss it. Confusion crept over his features when he looked at her wrist. He held onto her arm, looking down at it. "What is this?"

Clary looked at her wrist. There was a black mark on it. "I don't know." Then the memory of Tristan in the kitchen came flashing back to her mind. "It was Tristan. He put the rune on me. He said I was injured and sort of forcefully placed it on me. I never got to see it."

She examined it further. It was very intricate, filled with loops and sharp edges. Clary couldn't understand how fast he could have traced it.

Jace seemed to have the same thoughts. "I think it's two Runes. One on top of the other."

"Maybe. We should get another opinion though."

"We could go to Jocelyn—"

"No! I have to intention of letting my mother know what happened."

Jace eyed her sceptically. "She's going to find out eventually. When the Council calls us to Idris, how are we going to disappear from New York?"

"We just will."

Jace shook his head. "When my stomach stops rolling we'll go see Magnus. Okay?"

Clary put her hand on his forehead. It felt normal. "Are you sure? You were just puking."

"Real men tough it out."

It was Clary's turn to roll her eyes at him, he was unbelievable sometimes.

They had to venture over to the High Warlock's apartment, as he was overbooked with appointments. After returning from Idris two years pervious, his business had doubled in popularity. Alec had let them in with his key, but they had to wait down at the bottom of the stairs until a very hairy man stepped outside. "Don't use the cream more than twice a day!" Magnus's loud voice called down the stairs. He locked his eyes on Alec after the door shut. "Alec, darling! Bring those two up."

Clary and Jace followed Alec, who bounded up the stairs. He was in the Warlock's arms for a brief moment, then stepped away, walking into the main area of the flat. There was one rather large leather sofa, a coffee table, and a wall-sized television. It looked much the same as it did when Jace had been held as a sort of prisoner by Magnus. She didn't like remembering how awful the Inquisitor had been, even though she didn't know Jace was her grandson.

She followed Jace over to the couch, he had to take off all his weapons before sitting down. There was a small collection of daggers, knives, his stele, and two seraph blades on the table before he sat down. Clary frowned, she hadn't even brought a witchlight.

Magnus conjured a love seat for him and Alec. They sank down comfortably across from them. Magnus made a face at all the weapons Jace placed down, probably insulted that he had brought to many for a meeting. He put on hand on Alec's knee and leant forward. "Let me see your arm Clary."

She had to stand up and lean over the table between them. Magnus placed one finger on the black marks and bright, blue sparks flew from his hand. He pulled his hand back, a disconcerting frown on his lips. With a flick of his wrist, the small, familiar Book of the White was in his hands. He was searching through it, his eyes intent on the pages flying by. He stopped a good third of the way into the book, looked at the page, and then took Clary's arm again. Only his pointer finger lit up as he traced part of the pattern on her skin. "I have to agree with you two. This is two marks. I think the one on the bottom is the Obedience rune. It would explain why Tristan was able to get you out of the Institute so easily. Did you feel blank after he put the rune on your skin?"

"Yes," Clary nodded her head. "I couldn't make myself do anything. I felt like I was almost watching it happen to myself."

Magnus thought about her explanation. "And I think it is safe to say that the second one was placed on you sometime when you were held captive."

"I was unconscious for a long time. He must have done it then. But why they have any kind of reaction now?"

"They might be permanent," Jace explained. "But I didn't think Obedience was permanent."

"It isn't," Alec spoke up. He blushed suddenly and took to staring at a spot on the floor.

Magnus looked at him and smiled. "He's right. Normally it isn't permanent. I think in combination with the mark on top, it's burned into your skin."

"Permanently?" Clary felt the walls closing in on her, her breathing hitching in her chest. Jace stood up beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"There's always a way around these things."

"Yes," Magnus agreed. He showed the book to Clary and Jace, pointing to another rune. "This one here," he tapped a sharp edged rune, "is the top mark. It doesn't quite translate into English properly, but it is basically a rune of ownership. I think whatever Tristan did to you only he can take off."

"But why did it only react today?" Clary couldn't understand.

"It was a time sensitive thing. It could have just taken a single touch, from you," his eyes shifted to Jace, "or a lover to bring it back into effect. I'm going out on a limb and saying that Jace touched your wrist and it affected him in a negative way. You already said Jace got sick, and I think it the rune's power, forcing anyone who wanted to get close to you to have to back off."

"Hence, the trip to the bathroom," Jace concluded. "This is shit."

There was a flash of bright, orange light, and then it was gone. A piece of parchment paper had appeared, floating slowly down from the ceiling. Magnus plucked it out of the air, his height making it easy. He read it quickly and sighed. "At least you won't have to wait long to talk to Tristan. I've been requested by the Clave to open a portal tomorrow. I assume there will be a message coming your way—"

There was another flash of light and three pieces of paper floated down. Jace plucked out two of them, handing one to Clary so she wouldn't have to wait. There was a red emblem with the Clave symbol, as well as the four Downworlder symbols she had drawn. A small bit of pride crept into her body, but it soon passed. She read quickly, her hands shaking slightly as she read to the bottom. She shouldn't have been so surprised to read the small, tidy scripture, but it still unsteadied her. They would be returning to Alicante, to face the Clave.


	10. Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

_Disclaimer: Still isn't mine. _

* * *

Clary woke much earlier than she had wanted. Anticipation had kept her mind awake for most of the night, and finally after falling asleep, she couldn't stay sleeping. She sat up in her bed, looking out her window. The sun hadn't even begun to rise. The portal to Idris wouldn't be made until nine, and the sun wouldn't be up until seven-thirty, at least. Clary ran a hand down her face, frustrated with her early morning.

There was no point trying to sleep, her mind was already whirring with thoughts. She knew she should try to look presentable, so she slowly climbed out of bed and made her way into her private bathroom. The heat from the shower helped relax her nerves only slightly, letting her mind go blank from the warmth of the water. She took her time scrubbing her body down with soap—the same generic brand that all the Lightwoods used, yet only reminded her of Jace—and let her conditioner stay in her hair for an extra five minutes while she sat under the spray of the water. She even shaved her legs, knowing that Jace wouldn't come close enough to her to enjoy the benefits of her smooth skin. He seemed to be taking the marks on her wrist too seriously.

She knew intimacy was at a standstill until she could remove the runes and she scratched at her wrist in frustration. It only agitated her, and hurt. Her skin bled lightly from her nails and Clary decided that her peaceful shower was over. She put a towel in her hair and wrapped her naked body, deciding she didn't want to look so presentable for the Clave. Her hair could go as wild as it wanted to. Clary just didn't care anymore.

It may have been early for Clary, but Jace was used to rising before the sun. She wasn't surprised to find him sitting on her bed. He looked up at her, smiling softly at her appearance. He had on all his shadowhunting gear, and the black of his outfit made his hair look especially golden in the suddenly rising sunlight. Clary absentmindedly raised her arms to remove her towel from her hair, and she saw Jace's eyes follow the movement. His expression changed into a scowl, his golden eyes narrowing. "What did you do you your arm?"

Clary looked at her forgotten wrist. It was still bleeding. "I was upset."

"I guess I can relate. I've been known to self mutilate in extreme circumstances." His words were meant to be light, but the way he said them were nothing but dark. His face still looked upset. Clary looked away, turning to find her most comfortable pair of sweats. Finding what she wanted, she ducked into the bathroom to change. When she came out, Jace looked offended. "When have you become so prudish?"

"Since you stopped touching me," she answered honestly. "Why tease when I know I can't get anything from it?"

Jace nodded in agreement. He stood and crossed the room, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. Jace was never uncertain with her. His actions were always deliberate and confident. Clary didn't like what was happening between them. "We'll get this straightened out, I promise. If it means killing the bastard, I'll do it. I'll put a seraph blade right through his ugly heart."

"How very melodramatic of you," Clary mused.

Jace kissed her quickly on her forehead, avoiding her lips. He left her alone in her room to pack. Clay mulled over the fact that at least a simple kiss didn't send him hurling into the toilet. It gave her hope.

She let her imagination run wild over the things they could still do without enabling the marks. It let her body calm down while she packed her things. But what did she need to bring to Alicante? It was only November, and New York was still above freezing. Did it have the same weather as the rest of its European neighbours? Most likely. She even remembered being told that the altitude of their small country was a lot higher, so it was never particularly warm.

Treading over to her closet, Clary dug around for one of her autumn jackets. Her hands trailed to the back of the closet, her fists closing on something velvety and soft. When she brought it out, she found it was her old emerald jacket that had been a gift from Luke. It had several patches on it from her last time in Alicante; her mother insisted on the rough patch-work. Maybe it had more of a rugged look to it now. She hugged it to her chest as she brought it over to her small traveling bag.

It took her a good part of an hour to completely demolish her recently cleaned room. There was clothing on every possible surface of furniture, her closet and dresser devastated. But when she zipped up her bag, she was content with what she had picked out to bring. Clary opted to wear her fighting gear through the portal—it took up the most room and would be easier to pack more weapons if she was wearing them all.

She had to dig under a pile of embarrassing lingerie that Isabelle had bought her a week previous to find her stele and witchlight stone. Jace would have been appalled to see the state of her room. He was much to tidy to understand that sometimes it was necessary to have clutter in your room.

Still in her sweatpants, Clary made her way into the kitchen, knowing she would have to be quick if she were to change. It still took her forever to tie up her boots—another addition to her wardrobe thanks to Isabelle—and she was sure Jace would want her to have at least one seraph blade on her belt. It didn't take her long to eat breakfast, there was no one in the kitchen and she only had a bowl of cereal.

Back in her room, Clary unearthed her sketchbook from under one of numerous piles of clothing. It needed to come too, she decided on the spot. The last time she had been in Idris she hadn't had a chance to draw. This time, she was sure she would at least get some private time to sketch. Her fingers itched to do something other than fight or train.

Eight thirty rolled around faster than Clary expected, and she went down the hallways to the foyer to meet up with the others. She was glad to see Isabelle had dressed similar to her, in black Shadowhunting gear, her whip on her wrist. Clary noticed that the usual gleam of mischief was vacant from her smile. In fact, Isabelle had been rather monotonous ever since Clary had been abducted. She wondered if it had to do with Tristan. Isabelle _had_ had sex with him. Perhaps it was just a lingering guilt.

Clary had tried to talk to her about it once, but Isabelle had laughed it off. "Oh, don't worry about _him_ Clary; I'm not beating myself up about that."

"What is it then?" Clary had pressed.

"It's nothing," she assured Clary.

Jace and Alec were next to meet in the foyer, their bags much smaller than Clary's (who was happy to see that Isabelle had the largest bag), both talking quietly. Had she not been so sleep deprived, Clary may have bothered to listen. They all piled into the elevator.

Maryse and Robert had seen them off the night before; they had gone to the Institute in Paris, so they were left in the church alone. For whatever reason, the Clave did not require their presence. Perhaps it was because they were not in New York when everything had happened.

It still seemed odd, leaving for a trip. Clary had only been in New York for the last two years, and she couldn't help feeling a tinge of excitement. It was mostly overshadowed by her dread of speaking to the Council, seeing Tristan again, and the fact that her mother had not been informed of anything. Clary had mentioned that she was going to be leaving the state, and she would not be able to be reached.

Somehow Clary knew that Jocelyn would find out, but she ignored that fact.

The air outside seemed even colder with the wind, whipping at her face and making goose bumps rise up under her Shadowhunting gear. She hugged her arms around her body, trying to keep warm, but it was useless. Even with her hair down, the wind cut through her curls, biting at her exposed neck.

Jace was still talking to Alec, both their expressions grim. The only time that Alec's expression looked relatively happy was when Magnus came strolling onto the Institute grounds. His outfit was outrageously typical of him; bright yellow pants (Clary would call them canary yellow), a sequined shirt, and a fitted rainbow blazer. He nodded once in Clary's direction before turning to his boyfriend. There was a pang of jealousy as she watched Magnus dip his head down and swiftly kiss Alec on the lips. Clary yearned to have Jace kiss her again—she felt as if she were going through withdrawal. He was a drug for her.

Isabelle was leaning against the gate, observing the scene in front of her. She had her highest pair of boots on, making her tower over Clary. "Are we going yet?" she asked suddenly, cutting off Magnus in mid-sentence, as he explained where exactly they would be portaling to.

"If you insist," Magnus answered shortly. His shoulders were stiff as he looked at her. "But the Clave insisted on waiting until nine o'clock on the dot."

"Screw them," Isabelle spat. Her response caught Jace's attention—he was usually the one with the rude remarks.

"What's crawled up your ass?"

"I just don't see any reason that we have to wait for the exact time. I don't want to wait out here for another fifteen minutes. We can tell them my watch was fast if they throw a fit."

No one argued her point. It was really cold and Clary would prefer to go as soon as possible. So without further stalling, Magnus opened the portal. Alec and Jace went first, followed by Isabelle. Clary hesitated. "You're going to be right behind me?" she asked Magnus.

He smiled broadly at her and ushered her forward. "Of course. I have to shut the portal afterwards, so it would be best if you went now."

Clary didn't wait any longer. She took a step forward, letting the portal drag her to Idris.

Even with a few years of training under her belt, Clary still stumbled forward, out of the portal. Two strong hands caught her, and Clary looked up, frowning slightly when she realised it was someone who was far from a stranger that had caught her. The lighting in the room was very dark, making it hard to make out the expression of his face, but he was very recognizable. She squinted to see his face. He was not happy. "Luke?"

"Did you really think your mother and I wouldn't find out what happened? As far away from Idris that we live, your mother has very up to date information on what goes on within the Clave." He was talking to her like she was caught stealing a cookie from the jar. Clary didn't like the disapproving tone in his voice.

"I don't have to tell you everything," she argued. "Not everything should be such a big deal with me."

"So being kidnapped isn't such a big thing? Even for a mundane it's quite significant."

Clary hated how calmly Luke talked to her. She preferred being yelled at, it felt less angry in some twisted way. "When did you get here anyway?" she tried to change the conversation. "And where is my mom?" Clary's eyes had adjusted well enough to the light for her to see that they were in the new Guard. They were in a small, plainly decorated room. Very unelaborated for the Clave. She couldn't even see one painting of Shadowhunters or angels or demons and Downworlders. She also noticed that everyone else was situated by the door on the other side, accompanied by a few armed Guard members. But her mother was nowhere to be seen.

Luke looked over his shoulder, a frown still playing at his lips. "She's with Amatis. I didn't think it would be good if you met her here. She was seething when we arrived last night."

"But why are you here?"

"The Consul and Inquisitor wanted us in for questioning as well. We only found out about this last night. I had to call Magnus Bane last minute to arrange a portal. He gave me quite the discount too," Luke added quietly. "It seems that Sebastian has caused quite the upset among the Shadowhunters. Everyone was under the impression that there was no one on Valentine's side anymore."

Clary shook her head, her hair flying around her head. "He's not loyal to Valentine. I think Tristan had some sort of vendetta he felt needed to be fulfilled. He hated Jonathan, but I think he somehow respected him, so he decided to take up the mission Jonathan wanted to complete."

Confusion washed over Luke's features. "Tristan? You mean Sebastian, don't you?"

"Yes, it's just that I still consider Jonathan as Sebastian."

Luke nodded in understanding. "All the aliases can be confusing."

"You're telling me. So what are we supposed to be doing anyway? I can't imagine the Clave is going to expect us to stay in here."

"We're just waiting for the go-ahead to leave. And by the looks of it, we can head out."

Clary strained her head over Luke's shoulder to see the others quickly exiting the room. She caught the golden shine of Jace's hair disappearing into the hallway, but he was too far away to call out to. She and Luke quickly followed the others out, eager to leave the small room.

They only stopped once the guards reached a large set of wooden doors. They were elaborately decorated with rune carvings. Clary recognized several of them; protection, healing, invisibility. She had to hold her hand tightly to her side to keep from running her fingers over the engravings. When they went out the doors Clary was surprised to find them outside. She gave a sideways look to Luke.

"We have to wait until tomorrow morning to meet with the Inquisitor," Luke spoke quietly to Clary. "So that means you have plenty of time to inform your mother on what exactly happened in New York last month."

"Perfect," Clary mumbled.

_The wrath of Jocelyn next...  
_


	11. A whole lot better

_Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own this.  
_

* * *

Jocelyn was sitting in the living room of Amatis's house. The way she lounged on the couch, wearing her paint splattered jeans, her hair pulled back loosely, she seemed perfectly at ease. Jocelyn was the perfect personification of the calm before the storm. Her eyes were the only indication of her simmering anger—they were blazing.

There would be no Jace to stand by her side and hold her hand—he had gone off with his siblings to stay at another house. He had muttered under his breath something about the Herondale manor being vacated, but she wasn't sure if she heard him right.

Luke wasn't going to be much help either. He had walked down the street with Amatis to catch up on Clave business. Not being the werewolf representative meant that Luke wasn't as up to date as he could have been. Really, Clary figured he just didn't want to be around when Jocelyn started yelling—and she couldn't blame him. It wouldn't be fair to Amatis either, so her being gone was also a good thing.

Still, Clary wished she had _someone_ with her for moral support. If only she could have brought Simon along. Jocelyn never seemed to get as angry with an audience.

"Mom," Clary spoke as neutrally as possible. It never did well to sound angry. "Let me explain—"

"I don't want an explanation Clarissa. What I do want is to know why in the name of the Angel did you think it was unnecessary to not tell me you were _abducted?_ I would think that any parent—Nephilim or not—would be the first one to know if their child had been taken by force. Here I was, letting my eighteen year old daughter move out and live with her boyfriend, thinking the worst of my worries would be pregnancy—but _NO_, it was foolish of me to think that a baby would be my biggest concern. ABDUCTION—" Jocelyn's voice had been reaching higher and higher octaves as she began each sentence. She was shrill sounding with her last word. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING NOT TELLING ME?"

Clary couldn't help but shrink back from her mother. She was scarier than any demon she had faced alone. Jocelyn was pure outrage. "I'm sorry," Clary squeaked out.

"SORRY? I can't believe you would let something this significant stay hidden from me!" Jocelyn was standing in front of Clary, towering over her in her paint covered clothes. Had she not been yelling at her, Clary could have imagined she was just having a heart-to-heart conversation over a painting break. But this was no heart-filled conversation; it was a full scale attack.

Sure, Clary had it coming. She knew if Jocelyn had found out sooner—and she had to admit it, Jocelyn would have found out—she may not have been quite so upset. But the fact was she had been kept in the dark for a month. "Mom, I know I screwed up, and I am so sorry for not telling you sooner. I just thought that it wasn't important to let you worry over something else in my life. I am a Shadowhunter... these things happen." Clary desperately wished she was taller, so Jocelyn wasn't towering so high above her. It would have been less intimidating if she could look her mother straight in the eye.

"Not to my daughter, they sure don't! I let you move out thinking you would make smart decisions, become a better fighter if Jace trained with you on a consistent basis. Now I'm thinking that was the dumbest thing I've done in a very long time."

"Mom, you can't be saying..."

"I am. You're going to be moving back home when this trial is all over."

Everything else from that point in the conversation seemed sound like white noise to her ears. She couldn't understand what Jocelyn was saying to her anymore. All Clary could think was how she was going to have to leave the Institute, the one place she had finally begun to feel truly free and adult-like in. Her training would have to be cut in half, she was sure her mother wouldn't let her go off on her own again. She didn't even know if she could face Jace—tell him they wouldn't be able to wake up in each other's arms anymore. Even though they usually slept in their own rooms, it was nice have the comfort in knowing that if she wanted to, she could sneak off into Jace's room.

By the time Jocelyn had walked out of the living room, Clary had collapsed in a large chair. She pulled her knees up to her chin and stared out the window, not really seeing outside. She absently scratched at the two runes on her right wrist. It was hard to figure out what was worse; not being able to explain what had happened in November, or not speaking up for herself, refusing to move out. Clary had let her mother boss her around like she was a little girl again, and she was an adult now. She even had received her first payment from the Clave a few days before she had come to Idris.

She was aware of Luke and Amatis returning to the house for lunch. Their voices floated from the kitchen into the small front room. Her stomach lurched with hunger as a fragrant smell of food flowed through the house. But Clary didn't want to face her mother again, not until she could see her without cowering in fear. So instead of eating lunch, Clary remained in her chair, isolated from everything.

Perhaps an hour or so later Amatis walked into the living room with a tray of food for Clary. She said nothing as she left it on the table near Clary's feet, giving her one long glance before disappearing into her house. When she peered over the tray, Clary was disappointed to only find a cucumber sandwich and a cold bowl of soup. Too hungry to be picky, she ate the food without much further thought, and returned to her position on the chair with her feet pulled up.

Clary was surprised to notice the light knocking of the front door sometime later. When no one got up to answer the door, Clary rose from her chair and went to open it. Standing behind it was someone she did not recognize. It was a woman, in her late fifties, Clary presumed, dressed in white Shadowhunting funeral wear. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid that hung down and over her shoulder, stopping mid-waist. She wondered if she was a neighbour, stopping by to see Amatis, but when the woman spoke to Clary, she wasn't so sure.

"Are you Clarissa Morgenstern?"

"Clary Fray," she corrected the woman. _Morgenstern_ was never her name.

"_Clary,_" the woman seemed to ponder the name. She also seemed to look Clary over carefully. Perhaps she was an old friend of Jocelyn, seeing the similarities between the two of them. "I'm Elodie, Sebastian's aunt."

Clary stood stunned in the doorway. The slight French accent should have given some of who she was away—but she wasn't expecting to ever meet this woman. Before she could react, Elodie had reached out and taken Clary's right wrist in her hand, examining the two runes marking her skin. "Hey!" Clary protested. Elodie didn't let her hand go though, it was caught in an iron grasp.

Elodie looked smug. The skin around her eyes wrinkled slightly with her expression. "You'll soon find that this was all just a small misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" another voice asked. Clary poked her head around Elodie to find Jace standing behind her. She couldn't help the flutter that erupted in her stomach, making a small smile form on her lips. He was dressed so casually for Jace; a light gray sweater and dark wash jeans, matched with his boots. He could have been any normal mundane man, expect he still wore his weapons belt, adorned with his stele and two seraph blades. His hand was holding the hilt of one, very unnecessarily. "I think you need to remove your hand from my girlfriend."

Elodie released Clary's hand, letting her pull it back, cradling it against her chest with her other hand. Strangers couldn't just touch someone. She let her gaze travel to Jace's face where their eyes met briefly, then he looked to her hands and then away. He seemed to be staring down Elodie, using his glare instead of his words to make her back away. It seemed to work, as Clary watched Elodie flitter away quietly without another word.

She didn't meet his gaze again until she felt his fingers lifting her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. The gold was soft, inviting, and his expression was kind, almost amused. Clary let herself smile only slightly before sighing loudly. "How is it that you attract so much attention?"

"I don't know Jace."

"Aren't you a bit of a Debbie Downer today?"

Clary rolled her eyes and walked back into the house. She could hear Jace close the door behind them, kicking off his boots. As much as she loved him, she really didn't want to see him. He was too sensitive to her moods and was already picking up on her bad vibe. There was no way she was going to break the bad news to him this afternoon, he would never talk to her again.

"I take it your mother spoke to you?" Jace asked when Clary didn't strike up a conversation.

She shrugged her shoulders and flopped back down into her chair, resuming her blatant stare out the window. There was a longing in her fingers to draw the far-off mountains, capture them on paper. They were really beautiful, with the snow covered peaks and the dark clouds looming behind them. The sun made them shine, like they were of a greater significance in the world.

"I take it you had a bad conversation then," Jace continued, flopping down on the couch opposite her, blocking her view of the mountains so she had to look at him. "Fine, I can speak for the both of us. I like hearing my voice. How was your day Clary?" He paused for a moment, insinuating that he was waiting for Clary to speak, and then continued in a higher-pitched voice. "_Oh, it was just divine! Amatis showed me her new rose bushes._ Oh, really?" he spoke in his voice again. "Maybe you could show me too. _Oh, I don't know,_" he spoke, imitating her again. "_I was thinking about just going back to my room to draw, daydream about you, twirl my hair..._"

"I do _not_ twirl my hair Jace," Clary spoke up, amused and annoyed at the same time.

"So you admit to daydreaming about me?" Jace raised one eyebrow up perfectly.

Clary shook her head, trying to dispel the rising blush in her cheeks. It was no use.

"I know, I am hard to keep out of the mind, even for short stretches of time."

Clary chucked a pillow at him. He swatted it away before it even came close to his face. "You are such an ass, Jace Lightwood."

"And you are such a bummer, Clarissa Fray. What's wrong?" He stood up, crossed the room, and sat down on the edge of her chair. This time when he looked at her, he seemed serious. "I'm guessing your mother really got after you."

"Yeah," she finally admitted. "It blows."

"Care to expand?"

"No."

"Okay," Jace said. He stood back up, but not before pulling Clary to her feet. She let him drag her out of the living room, down the hallway, and back into the small guest room they had spent the night in two years previous. He shut the door and locked the handle, not bothering with any kind of rune. Clary tried to suppress a frown, but it still formed on her lips. That one night had been so perfect, but led to so much pain and suffering that her memory of it would always be tainted with bitterness.

He must have been thinking of the same thing, and pulled her to him. He held her in his arms as a loud sob broke from her mouth. She tried to stifle her cries, but it only made them worse, her eyes quickly spilling all the tears she refused to shed in front of her mother. Being strong was hard, being tough was harder. Jace never broke down, never. And here she was crying over a punishment she surely deserved.

She wasn't sure when it happened, but Jace had managed to shift them from standing in at the foot of the bed, to lying side-by-side on the bed. He was holding her to him at the waist with one arm, and letting the other rub small circles on her hip. She let her fingers grip his sweater, bunching it up enough to leave ugly wrinkles. Every so often he would kiss her forehead, or whisper how he loved her in her ear, until her tears tried up and her breathing returned to a normal pace.

When she was sure she wouldn't break down into tears again, Clary looked up at Jace, trying to convey with her eyes how grateful she was to have him just hold her. "Thanks," she whispered.

Jace bent his head down; gently letting his lips brush hers. She knew it was his way of saying she was welcome, that he would always be there for her. Clary reacted in turn by kissing him back, putting her hands on his shoulders, and pulling him even closer than he was before. Their legs tangled up with each other as they kissed more, Jace eventually moving to lie mostly on top of Clary. He had a hand up her shirt, quickly making a trail up to her breasts, causing her breathing to hitch. She opened her mouth to him, letting their tongues roll and twist together, much like their legs. Clary savoured the taste of him, the familiarity it brought her, and in turn ran her hands down his back, stopping only to grasp his buttocks.

She could feel Jace moan, the vibration deep in his throat making its way to their still connected mouths. There was too much heat between them, and Clary tugged roughly at the hem of his shirt, letting him know it had to go. Jace only let their mouths part long enough for both their shirts to be hastily removed. When Jace moved his face back to hers their kisses turned from long and sensual to fast and heated. Their bodies were reacting faster than their minds, trying to make up for the lack of physical contact they had barely shared in the last while.

It was in that moment, when she could feel Jace's hand making its way down her right arm, that she knew something was wrong. By the time her brain could remember what would happen, Jace had brushed the two runes on her wrist, and went still. There was blood in her mouth almost as immediately as Clary realised what had happened again.

Jace pulled back quickly, once he realised what had happened, and made another quick exit for the bathroom down the hall.


	12. The Remedy

_Disclaimer: It isn't mine. It all belongs to the lovely Cassandra Clare._

* * *

Panicked, Clary dragged her shirt over her head and rushed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water for Jace. In her hasty effort to pull a glass down from the high cupboard she managed to drop two glasses onto the floor. They shattered violently across the tiles, and Clary managed to step on several of the pieces when she tried to walk around the mess. Cursing loudly, she dropped to a sitting position to yank out multiple pieces of glass from each foot. By the time she was standing again, Jace was leaning in the doorway with a small grin on his face. He had put his shirt back on, but there was a little smear of blood near the collar. "Aren't you one for dramatics today? If I were any smarter, I would think you're trying to steal all my thunder." He walked over to her and traced an_ iratze_ on her left wrist. He kissed it once the mark faded. Then he brushed his thumb over her lip, a small frown on his own lips.

Clary saw as he swiped it against his pants. It was a deep crimson and she remembered tasting blood earlier. "You were bleeding Jace. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Where's your mother? I would have thought someone would have heard the two of us talking by now." Clary knew better than to push him any further about the blood in his mouth. As far as he was concerned, that conversation was over.

Clary realised that she hadn't seen anyone for the better part of the day. The sky was still bright, but it was late afternoon already. "They must have left earlier without telling me." Clary walked over to the small standing closet in the kitchen and pulled of a broom and dustpan. If she let the glass stay put any longer the chances of her stepping on it again would greatly increase. She paid no attention to Jace casually digging through the pantry for food while she swept up the mess. "You know what?" Clary suddenly asked Jace, turning around to find him sitting at the table. "Why do you touch my wrist if you know what it will do to you?"

"Those runes affect me in some weird way. I forget that they're there. It's almost like there is a mental block in my mind when you kiss me."

"How romantic," Clary drawled. She thought about it while Jace ate a sandwich, considering all the options that they had. When she was certain that there was only one possible solution, she spoke up. "What if I just cover it up?"

Jace swallowed slowly, seeming to consider the option. "And by doing so what do you wish to accomplish?"

Clary glared at him. He was smirking. Instead of giving him a response, Clary walked over to the sink and pulled out a clean rag. She tore of a log strip and continued by wrapping it around her right wrist, effectively covering up the two runes, and tying it tightly. She shook her wrist a few times to make sure it wouldn't move and sauntered out of the kitchen. "You coming?" she called down the hall. Though she couldn't hear him move, she was very aware of his presence behind her.

Once they were in her room she quickly closed and locked the door. "I need your stele." Jace pulled his out of his pocket and handed it to her. His face was unreadable. Clary quickly traced two Runes, one to properly lock it, and another for silence.

"Don't you think it's odd that there are no adults here? That your mother and Luke just up and left, without telling you? Not to mention Amatis, because this is her house."

"Did you wash out your mouth?" Clary asked him, ignoring his questions completely.

He looked insulted. "Yes."

"Then kiss me you moron."

It was as if the world outside their bedroom had disappeared when Jace's lips met hers. Clary let her fingers tangle in his hair as his hands snaked their way around her back. They were most comfortable this way. Safe. But Clary didn't want to play it safe, she wanted heat and passion, and—if she was being honest with herself—she wanted sex. She could tell Jace wanted the same thing, as his hand made its way down her back and onto her bottom. He squeezed her firmly, pulling her flush against him. There was no way to deny that he was just as eager as she was. She could feel him hardening against her body as a small moan escaped his lips.

He removed his lips from her to whisper in her ear "You can't begin to understand what you're doing to me right now Clary. You are unbelievable." He nipped on her ear before kissing his way down to her neck. Stopping to lightly suck on her collar bone, Clary took the opportunity to pull Jace's shirt off his body again. She let her hands travel over the multitude of scars and marks on his skin that made him who he was. They made him even more perfect in her mind. It showed how passionate and devoted he was to being a Shadowhunter.

She was vaguely aware of Jace's hand trailing down her shoulder, onto her bicep, and stopping at her newly covered wrist. Her mind didn't even panic when he stopped his motions for a moment. Instead, she took advantage of his stilled form, and pulled him over to the small bed. The mattress creaked a little as she sat down and pulled Jace on top of her. His lips returned to hers, his tongue probing into her mouth the moment she let her lips part.

When she was sure her lungs would burst from lack of air, Clary broke apart from Jace, gasping oxygen like she had run a mile. Jace chuckled darkly. "I must be really good if you're already worked up," he murmured in her ear. "What would happen if I do this?" he asked, moving his lips to the base of her throat, kissing her softly.

Clary let out a small sigh of compliance.

"That's nice," she said.

He tugged the edge of her shirt up, and she helped him pull it right off. When her shirt hit the ground Jace placed his hands on her breasts, squeezing them tightly.

This time she groaned as her nipples began to peak and harden.

"Jace," she moaned, unable to form any coherent sentence.

Jace smiled at her. "Speechless already?

Clary managed to roll her eyes.

"Something bothering you?"

"Do you have anything to say besides questions?"

"Should I?"

"You shouldn't be saying anything," Clary pointed out. "In fact, I think I know exactly what your mouth should be doing..."

Clary kissed him, shutting him up for the time being. He didn't protest, instead he managed to get his hands behind her and fumbled with her bra until it was undone. She arched her back to let Jace pull it off, finally freeing her aching breasts. The sudden exposure to her soft peaks caused them to harden. None of it was missed by Jace. Soon, after they broke off again from their heated kiss, Jace had his hot mouth trailing down to her breasts. He licked one of her nipples, playing with the other in his fingers, bringing loud moans from Clary's throat. When he was done with one nipple, he moved onto the other, mimicking his previous actions perfectly. Jace was nothing, if not thorough.

While they weren't kissing, Clary was able to pull in several long breaths, letting her chest rise and fall heavily each time. Clary could feel Jace's need still pressing firmly into her thigh every time Clary rolled her hips upwards. Jace would respond in turn, pushing his hips into her, creating a dry friction between the two of them.

It was rewarding, this intimacy, but it was going too slow for Clary. Instead of voicing her opinion, Clary let her hands trail to Jace's hard abdomen, making a very obvious point of what she was going to do. Lingering only for a moment at his waist band, Clay plunged her hand right under his pants and briefs, capturing his member, and pulling on it enough to cause a loud groan to fall from Jace's mouth. She kissed him then, needing the feel of his lips against her again.

If Clary had any doubts of whether or not Jace got her point, they were removed when he moved his hand to her pants, tugging forcefully on the waist band. She helped him by unbuttoning her pants, wiggling her hips as he pulled them off her. Jace chuckled darkly once her pants landed quietly on the floor beside her bed.

"What?" Clary couldn't help but ask.

Jace was fingering the elastic of her underwear. "I didn't realise you had gone back to wearing these. I kind of missed them."

Clary sat up and looked down at her underwear, frowning. Of course she had to wear her ugliest pair of panties. No wonder Jace was amused. She couldn't help but cross her arms over her chest.

Jace frowned at her. "Don't go covering yourself up now. Do you know how long I've waited to see you naked again?"

Clary slowly let her arms fall back to her sides. "I can't believe I wore these today—of all days." She was pouting a bit. "I should have let Isabelle burn them when she offered."

That made Jace grin even more. "You know, I could just dispose of them for you." He kissed her on the mouth again, before she could give him a response. Clary could feel his fingers gently tugging at her underwear, pulling them off her body.

"Not fair," she mumbled on his lips. "You always have me naked first."

Jace bit down on her earlobe softly. "That's because I can manage a full train of thought while we're kissing."

"And I can't?"

"What were you so upset about when I came over?" he asked. His fingers were trailing down her stomach, lightly brushing her skin, only stopping once they found her warmth.

Clary was trying to think of anything besides his hands on her and his breath against her face. "I..." she tried to form a sentence. Jace was slowly rubbing her very wet entrance. "So... unfair," she barely managed to whimper.

Jace kissed her deeply this time, licking her bottom lip, asking for entrance. Clary could never deny him. The combination of his lips on hers and his fingers playing with her was becoming too much.

"Jace," she murmured.

She had enough thought left to pull at his waist band, forcing his pants down without undoing them. Jace jumped on board and helped her with his briefs, kicking them off his legs along with his pants.

When he finally entered her, Clary felt the full effect of how much she had missed this connection. All the pent up tension and lust came spilling forward, causing her to moan loudly as Jace began to move fast and hard within her. She wrapped her hands around his back, forcing their bodies as close together as possible.

Jace held her hips in a vice grip, his face set in a mix of determination and bliss. Every so often he would moan Clary's name.

Clary, in response, dug her nails into Jace's shoulders, panting with every thrust his hips produced. She was close to her release already, and she knew she wouldn't last much longer. She had been so starved for his touch that it was all overriding her senses.

She moved her hands onto his bottom, urging him to drive into her more. Jace grabbed her left leg in return, moving it up and around his hip. With their slight change in position Jace was able to hit her in spots that he hadn't touched in a long time. When Clary tightened her leg around his hip, Jace let go of her leg to put his hand on her ribcage, just below her breast.

It was the combination of his hands on her and his thrusting that finally sent Clary over the edge. She let out a low moan as her climax hit her in waves. She could feel her walls tightening and relaxing as Jace continued to grind into her. Moments after Clary came down from her high, Jace follow suit, arching his back as he released.

He collapsed to the side after his body stilled, pulling Clary into his chest. They kissed slowly, savouring the moment they had both longed for.

Clary pulled back first, knowing the rest of the day had to carry on. "Shower?" she asked, knowing it wouldn't take much to convince Jace.

He nodded and kissed her nose.

An hour later, Clary was sitting in the living room sipping a mug of tea. As much as she wanted to lounge around in bed with Jace, this wasn't the Institute and they were on official Clave business. He had left shortly after their shower, needing to talk to his siblings about the upcoming trial. None of them had had any word as to when they would be requested.

She had forgotten to take off the strip of fabric from her wrist and was idly picking at it with her free hand. When it was significantly abused, she took it off. Clary let out a startled sound.

Instead of two black Runes, one was bright red; clearly separate from one another for the first time.

A bright flash startled her, catching her attention. A piece of paper flitted down from the ceiling, falling onto her lap. There was a Clave insignia stamped on the top left corner, letting her know immediately who had sent it.

_We require your presence tonight at seven to discuss matters concerning one Sebastian Verlac. An escort will arrive to pick you up in precisely fifteen minutes. _Clary had read the letter twice to make sure she had the details correct, her heart pounding.

There was a tension in her body, even though she tried to stay relaxed. She hadn't seen Sebastian since he had kidnapped her, and she still wasn't sure if she ever wanted to see him again. He was the one who had put the marks on her skin, effectively branding her as one of his own. That didn't sit well with her. And the fact that Elodie had said it was all a "misunderstanding" was also aggravating her. Too soon after Jace had left the feelings of hopelessness had returned to her.

Trying to forget the Runes on her wrist, Clary headed to her room in preparation for the trial. She was going to need to be pulled together mentally and physically to face the Clave. She hastily pulled on a long sleeved sweater before she heard someone knocking at the door.

"You can do this," she told herself. "You're not the one going under fire. Tristan—" she stopped herself. "Sebastian is the bad guy here, not you." Clary repeated this in her mind all the way to the door. She pulled on her green coat before heading outside.


	13. Circus

_Disclaimer: Umm, I don't think it's mine yet. Let me check... nope._

* * *

The walk to the Guard was quick; the man escorting her took long steps, causing Clary to have to practically jog to keep up. She was breathing a little more heavily than she thought she should have—her training had also increased her endurance—but nonetheless, she had a little sweat hanging on her upper lip and neck. She swiped her mouth quickly, hoping the escort wouldn't notice that their walk had been a slight strain on her body.

He didn't seem to even notice she was there the whole time. When she had joined him outside Amatis's house, he had simply turned around and walked in the direction of the guard. Now, as they walked into the building, he continued his silence.

Clary hadn't realised, at first, how empty the Guard seemed to be. They met no one on their way to the room where the trial was to be held. And when she stepped into the room, there were much fewer people than she expected. She instantly recognized the dark hair of the Lightwood siblings sitting in the middle of the room, but to her disappointment, did not see their adopted brother.

Jace's familiar blonde head was nowhere in her sight. Clary walked up to join Isabelle and Alec, quickly scanning the faces in the room. She recognized the new Consul Birchwood sitting with an absent look on his face, twisting his moustache, but did not see the Inquisitor. Her mother and Luke were also missing. Clary saw that there was perhaps only a dozen people total in the room.

Clary couldn't help but search the room again with false hope. Her gaze stopped on a familiar face taking a seat beside the Consul, in the Inquisitor's chair. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

It was Elodie, Sebastian's aunt.

She had a smug expression to her face, while she eyed up Clary. It unsettled her, seeing this woman so pleased when she should have looked miserable. Clary looked away, uncomfortable with the woman in the room. It was _her_ nephew that was on trial after all, not Clary or the Lightwoods.

There was a soft banter of conversation going on in the room. Clary sat down beside Isabelle and whispered, "What's she doing here?"

"Who?" Isabelle looked at her funny.

"Elodie, Sebastian's aunt."

"She's the new Inquisitor. Last one died about a month ago, so she moved here from France to step up."

Clary frowned, not liking the coincidence. "And that doesn't sound suspicious to you?" she spoke louder than she meant to.

Alec shifted on his seat, obviously hearing Clary. She took her voice back down a notch. "I mean, we arrested Sebastian last month, and just as that happens, she becomes Inquisitor."

"I don't know Clary," Isabelle whispered back. She sounded impatient.

"Where's Jace?" Clary changed the subject.

Isabelle shrugged her shoulders, her face nonchalant. Clary knew it was her way of bluffing. She watched as Isabelle played with the hem of her sleeve, pulling at it non-stop. She was just as nervous as Clary. "He was supposed to arrive with you."

"Didn't he come back to you guys?" Clary could feel the beginnings of panic forming in her stomach. It was making her palms sweat. There was too much going on at once, and the trial hadn't even started.

Alec leaned over Isabelle. "Magnus isn't here either. Maybe they bumped into each other."

"And decided to have a cup of tea?" Isabelle retorted.

Alec flushed red. He opened his mouth to respond, but didn't get the chance. A loud ringing came from the chair of Consul Birchwood, silencing all the Nephilim. Clary turned to face him, straightening in her chair. It was uncomfortably hard and too tall for her. Her toes scarcely touched the floor, making her feel like a young child.

The Consul stood up, addressing all in the room. "As we all know, we are here to address the recent arrestment of Sebastian Verlac. I will hand over the questioning to the Inquisitor for further examination on this case."

Clary watched as Elodie stood up and walked over to Clary and the Lightwoods. Her hair was no longer it its long braid; instead it was pulled into a large bun, giving her a very harsh look.

"Are you Clarissa Morgenstern?" she spoke with ice.

Clary couldn't help but ball her hands into fists at the mention of her father's name. "Clary Fray," she corrected. "But I don't think we should start the trial until Jace—"

"And are you Isabelle and Alec Lightwood?" Elodie continued. No one in the room seemed to notice that Clary had been cut off.

Isabelle muttered out, "Yes."

Alec nodded his head.

"And can the two of you provide any evidence that Clarissa Morgenstern was, indeed, attacked by Sebastian?"

"We had to rescue her from him," Isabelle began to explain. "He kidnapped her from the institute, along with Simon, and we had to fight off a hoard of Forsaken at the marina."

"Who is Simon?" the Inquisitor asked.

"Our friend," Isabelle answered, dodging the actual question.

"And why would Sebastian want to kidnap him?"

"Because he's hell-bent on some insane idea that Downworlders are the route of all our problems." Isabelle had taken on a defensive tone. She had her shoulders squared off and held her chin up high. Clary remembered how scarily familiar she was to Maryse.

"I am under the impression that you have been involved in a relationship with said Downworlder, the Daywalker." Elodie made it a statement, not a question.

Isabelle frowned deeply at her words. It seemed enough of a confession to Elodie.

"And you?" she asked, moving onto Alec.

"I was there too, along with Magnus Bane. He's supposed to be here too, with Jace—"

Again, Elodie cut off the mention of Jace. "And what relation do you have with Magnus Bane?"

"He's the High Warlock of Brooklyn," Alec recited much like Magnus had often done in the past.

"That's not what I was asking." The Inquisitor eyed him up. "It was made publically known two years ago that you are involved in a relationship with _him._" Elodie emphasized the word _him_ as if it was a bad thing.

Clary realised too late that she was exploiting both their relationships with Downworlders. But Clary didn't understand why, until Elodie spoke again.

"It seems to me that the Lightwood children have strong ties to the Downworlders in New York. I don't think that I'm going out on a limb to say that they perhaps jumped the gun when Clarissa met a Shadowhunter who did not share their views. They couldn't keep their personal opinions out of the way and fabricated a story so bizarre as to find a way to get rid of Sebastian Verlac."

"But I do have proof," Clary argued. She was shaking with anger. How could they all believe that? They know Elodie is Sebastian's aunt. _She's just pulling strings to make everything work in her favour,_ Clary thought. _They can't believe it._

The Inquisitor walked back over to the Consul, exchanged in a brief conversation, and came back to stand in front of Clary. She didn't let her gaze drift down to the floor this time, holding Elodie's cold stare.

Clary took pride in the fact that Elodie broke eye contact first. However, her next words ruined the moment. "And what proof do you have of said attack? There were no bodies of Forsaken at the marina you told us about, no destroyed shed, and we all know that you can make up your own Runes. I can hardly believe that Sebastian Verlac was capable of drawing such Runes on your wrist."

Clary pulled at the sleeve of her jacket defiantly, shoving her wrist out into the open. "You think I could be capable of drawing this on my own wrist?"

The Inquisitor looked at Clary, then casually down at her arm. A smile crept onto her face. Clary couldn't understand why she would be smiling. Her marks had changed to bright red!

"I think next time you have us arrest a member of the Clave, you should pay attention to detail, Clarissa." Elodie made a sweeping gesture to the Clave members. "As you can all see, these children have a serious problem with lying. As young members of our great race, I think it would be merciful to send them on their way back home without further judgment and to have them watched over more closely by their parents."

There was a succession of agreement that went through the room. Heads were nodding in agreement with Elodie. Clary could not understand what had happened to make everything turn against her. She had shown them the Rune, it was proof enough. Now that it had turned red, she was certain that they would believe her.

_Where is Jace?_ She couldn't help but ask herself again.

Clary glanced down at her wrist. Panic erupted in her more strongly than before. She checked her other arm frantically, then back to her right wrist, seeing nothing but her pale skin. "By the Angel," Clary whispered to herself. She glanced at Isabelle and Alec; their faces seemed to match what she was feeling inside. She looked down at her wrist again, not believing that the Runes were gone.

Her mind searched back to her previous encounter with Elodie. She had seemed confident that it had been a "misunderstanding," as she had put it. Clary hadn't understood why at the time, but now it made sense. Elodie knew Clary and the Lightwoods would be made to look like fools.

_Where are you Jace?_ Clary's mind screamed. The walls of the room felt like they were closing in on her, reducing her breathing capabilities, and the people around her began to blur. She barely heard the loud ringing sound again.

"It has been brought to our attention that he was has been alive all of these years, suffering from a debilitating case of amnesia," Clary heard the voice of the Consul speaking again. She couldn't focus her eyes on him though. "After thorough neurological examination, and nonexistent occurrences, we, the Council, have found that Sebastian cannot be blamed for the accusations brought forward to the Guard, and we will hereby dismiss said case."

"That's bullshit! You're just twisting information in your favour because you're his aunt!" Isabelle shouted beside Clary, snapping her focus back.

Members of the Guard were quickly shuffling out of the room, talking amongst themselves again. None of them seemed to notice Isabelle's outburst.

Alec pulled at her arm, trying in vain to walk her out of the room. Isabelle was having none of it. "How can you say that none of this happened? Clary was attacked and kidnapped by a raving lunatic, and you're just going to let this slip because you failed to find any _evidence?_" No one was paying attention to Isabelle.

The Consul Birchwood had already left the room, and Elodie was almost out the door. "You won't get away with this!" Isabelle tried once more.

Elodie turned to the three of them, her face very void of any emotion. As the last member of the Council left, she spoke softly. "I believe that I just did."


	14. Nothing else matters

_Disclaimer: I don't own TMI. _

* * *

"This is such shit!" Isabelle exasperated for the third time in minutes. Clary watched her from a chair in the small room they were being kept in until a portal was opened back to New York. She couldn't stop pacing back and forth, occasionally kicking her bags in frustration. Isabelle was the most dishevelled Clary had seen her in a very long time. Her hair was wild, coming out messily from her single plait and her shirt was partially unbuttoned from their hasty afternoon.

Alec kept pulling out his cell phone—but for what reason Clary wasn't sure. They were all aware of the lack of technology in Idris, and that a cell phone would never gain reception. She figured maybe it was a nervous habit, checking the time constantly until something happened. He had every reason to be nervous; they were being unceremoniously dumped back in New York this afternoon. The Clave had made their statement very clear, branding them as young adults who didn't like outsiders. Rebels.

None of them liked having to sit still for long. Even after two short years, Clary had acquired the restless state that most Shadowhunters seemed stuck in. She couldn't help but shake her foot in anticipation, waiting for anything to happen. They had been in this room only an hour, but they had no idea when they would be leaving. Clary had been escorted back to Amatis's house, hoping to find her mother and Luke, but they were not there. She did, however, finally see Amatis again.

Clary had quickly explained what had happened at the trial while she packed her things. Amatis stood and listened, her mouth set in a grave line. "Well," she said after Clary had finally stopped talking, "Luke and Jocelyn had to leave this morning. There was an upset in New York with the werewolves and Luke had to be there. Your mother wanted to stay, but the Clave insisted she went back with Luke."

"Where were you all day?" Clary wanted to know.

"I was visiting some friends down the lane."

"Did you see Jace at all?" She hadn't forgotten about his disappearance. "He wasn't at the trial."

"Maybe he was called back to New York too," Amatis offered. "The Clave works in odd ways sometimes."

"That's for sure," Clary agreed. "They appointed Sebastian Verlac's aunt as the new Inquisitor and she is just as insane as Aldertree and Herondale." She couldn't keep the venom out of her voice.

"Elodie? She's Sebastian's aunt?" Amatis had seemed sincerely surprised. Clary couldn't understand how Amatis didn't know; she lived in the city, she must have heard everything.

"Your time is up for packing Miss Fray." Her escort had been waiting for her in the entrance way, making his appearance very abrupt. She hadn't finished putting everything in her bag and had to cram it in quickly. The last thing she wanted to do was annoy anyone else in the Guard.

Clary had been shuffled out of Amatis's house with a very brief farewell, and she had been sitting in the waiting room ever since she had been brought back into the Guard. Not knowing what to do, she continued to watch Isabelle pace across the room. "And where is Jace?" Isabelle yelled at no one in particular. She kicked her booted foot at the wall this time, cracking the moulding at the bottom. Alec flinched at the noise she was creating. It didn't help to cool her temper. "Here we were, under direct fire of the council, and he's nowhere to be seen. That bastard probably thought he didn't even need to be here—"

"Jace is not arrogant enough to skip a trial this important," Alec interrupted his sister. "You're just lashing out at anyone now because you're angry."

Clary noted that his cheeks didn't flush red when he supported his parabati. It was nice see him confident enough to talk about him without a blush anymore. "I think something happened that none of us are aware of. None of this feels right. Magnus wasn't here either," Clary pointed out to Isabelle.

Their points seemed to finally settle into Isabelle's mind. She flopped down dramatically on the floor, sitting on one of her bags. After that, they all sat in silence.

Finally, someone came into the room. It was no one familiar, just another guard. "The portal will be opening in two minutes," he announced. Clary noticed how he avoided all of their evident stares.

The three of them quickly assembled in front of the designated spot, holing their bags. Alec had to help his sister, grabbing one of her bags in his free hand. Clary managed with hers and stood on the spot until the portal opened. When the guard nodded his head, Alec went first, followed by Isabelle and Clary last. She sent one fleeting look back at the guard. He looked at her, smiling, and pulled out his stele. She watched as he drew a Rune on his wrist, entranced by it. The guard was changing appearances quickly, his bland features morphing into one she immediately recognized. His face had that same lop-sided grin and nose that was too big for his face. Sebastian Verlac stood before her. "Miss me angel?"

Clary took a decisive step back, putting a little distance between them. A tugging sensation took over her body and she was hurtled through the portal before she could utter anything back.

This time, Clary landed on her feet, stabling herself on her own. She looked around to find her back in front of the Institute. Magnus was already closing the portal to Alicante and she didn't have time to stop him. Alec was deep in conversation with Magnus, clad in his usual decor of sparkly and tight clothing. Isabelle was nowhere in sight.

"You've got to open the portal again!" she cried out. "The guard—he's... he's Sebastian!"

Both men stopped to look at her, shock clearly written on their faces. Magnus was first to recover, shaking his head. "I can't Clary, even if it was him. Once it's closed I need permission from the Clave to open it again."

"Who cares about permission? It was Sebastian, he was right there." Clary grabbed onto his arm like she could force the magic out of him. She was desperate.

"Clary," it was Alec speaking to her this time. He put a hand on her shoulder. "He's allowed to go free. Even if Magnus broke the law and opened up the portal again, Sebastian's name has been cleared. You'd just get us all thrown in the dungeons." He had a sad look to his face. It was hard for him too, not knowing where Jace had gone.

Clary let go of Magnus's arm, completely defeated. She sat down on the cement, unsure of what to do next. Ignoring their pitying glance she put her head in her hands. There was no way she was going to let herself cry, she was tougher than that.

Alec and Magnus moved closer to the entrance of the Institute, their voices a bit quieter when Alec spoke up. "Where have you been?" Alec questioned Magnus. Clary glanced up to look at them conversing. As much as Alec wanted to display a serious and professional Shadowhunter image his body language was giving off a gentle vibe with Magnus in front of him. Alec hand one hand on Magnus's arm, much where Clary had held onto him, but it was an affectionate touch.

"I was asked to come back to New York to help out with a werewolf problem. Luke and Jocelyn came back with me. It was nothing really," he must have added for Alec's sake. "And when I requested to come back for the trial, I was told it was unnecessary and was told to wait until now to open up a new portal. As if," he said haughtily, jutting his chin out a bit, "I am not the High Warlock of Brooklyn. I do have a schedule to maintain and a reputation to upkeep."

"Where's Jace?" she interrupted Alec as he hastily explained the horrendous trial.

Magnus looked at her with a blank expression. His eyes were the only indication of worry on his face. "I don't know. There hasn't been any other portal activity since I've been back. But I'll monitor it." He walked back over to her and crouched down to place a hand on her shoulder. It was slightly comforting. "He'll show up, he always seems to come at the most opportune moment."

Two days passed. Two days of the most antagonizing game of wait-and-see. Clary had paced the spot in front of Jace's room so frequently over the two days that some of the finish on the floor had actually begun to chip off. She was restless without him, desperate to find some sort of answer. Twice, she tried to go into his room, only to find it too painful to turn the knob and find that his room looked exactly as is always did. Clary didn't think she could keep it together if she actually went into his room.

She had gone to talk to her mother on the second morning. Jocelyn was obviously upset by the news, but hadn't been much for comfort. "I don't know Clary," she had answered when Clary had told her about seeing Sebastian at the portal. "Maybe that wasn't Sebastian you saw. I think that you're so hell-bent on pinning it all on him that you're imagination is going a little wild."

"It was _not _my imagination mother," Clary had gritted through her teeth. The last thing she wanted was for her own mother to think she was making things up.

"Maybe not, but you need to wait. Start by contacting Maryse and Robert, for starters. Let them know how the trial went," her mother suggested. She was in the middle of painting a portrait of the mountains in Idris. Ever since her mother had been woken up she had been obsessed with painting the country. Her overalls were completely covered in different shades of green and blue.

"Alec already spoke to them over the phone. They'll be back in a few days to see what they can do." Clary was tired of her mother not being of any help.

"Have you tried a tracking spell?"

"Magnus couldn't see anything," Clary explained. "All he saw was black."

Luke had walked into the conversation at that point. Jocelyn quickly filled him in on the details Clary had told her, only she didn't stress his disappearance as much as Clary thought she could.

"He's been gone since the day of the trial Luke," Clary emphasized.

"I'll get some of the pack to look over the city, okay? If they hear anything suspicious I'll let you know immediately." He pulled her into a hug that used to drown all her worries, but now it couldn't do anything to dull the painful ache in her chest.

She had gone back to the Institute after talking to them, unable to sit still and do nothing.

While the Lightwoods busied themselves for the better part of the morning with training, Clary couldn't bring herself to walk into the room. Too many times had she been in there with Jace to train, and the memories unsettled her. He was too good of a fighter to just disappear out of thin air. There was no way they he could have just been captured.

Isabelle was in a similar state of worry by dinner, constantly checking her own phone for any kind of message. At first Clary assumed it was purely over Jace, but when she asked, Isabelle had another boy on her mind.

Simon.

"Just because he's gone across the country, doesn't mean he can't pick up his phone," she pointed out over lunch on the second day.

Clary had been idly picking away at her soup, unable to eat much of her dinner. She muttered some sort of sound that could be passed off as a reply and kept looking at her food. It was the most edible thing Isabelle had ever conjured up. Canned soup was the first thing she didn't burn or set fire to.

"Do you think he's just ignoring me?" Isabelle's voice made its way into Clary's head.

Clary looked at her soup with a studious gaze. "Simon doesn't just ignore people for no reason."

"But there is a reason, I think," Isabelle said so sadly that Clary had to look up.

She could see that the older girl had dark circles under her eyes that hadn't been there two days ago. Isabelle's whole demeanour was off.

"What happened between the two of you?" Clary said. It was obvious now that something had gone on that she had been oblivious to.

Isabelle slunk down into the chair next to Clary. "It started when we broke up."

"When did this happen?" Clary had been under the impression that they were still seeing each other.

"The same night we rescued you from Sebastian." Isabelle looked sad. "And he said that it would never work and we were just fighting against something that we couldn't change—which is such crap I think, but totally beside the point. Then he told me he was going across the country or out of New York, at least, and he would be gone for a long while."

Clary knew Simon had left for an important trip. He was the only Daywalker and had offered his help this one time. "He hasn't called me either Isabelle," Clary tried to reason with her, "and I'm his best friend. Why don't you let me try calling him?" She would do anything right now to distract herself from the ever missing presence of Jace.

It took Isabelle awhile to consider Clary's offer before she agreed. Several minutes later Clary was on the phone, waiting as the line rang. On the fifth ring Simon picked up. "Clary?"

"Yeah Simon, it's me."

"Wow, it's really nice to hear your voice. How are you?" his voice sounded hushed.

"Where are you?" Clary cut to the point. "I haven't heard from you in over a month."

Simon let out a low whistle. "Has it been that long? I'm in Florida."

"Florida?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Care to explain?" Clary was more than curious to know why.

There was a silent pause on the other end of the line. "I met someone here," Simon admitted.

"Is that why you haven't called any of us?" Clary hoped that he would get the hint about Isabelle without being overly obvious. She saw Isabelle squirm in her seat, clearly trying to understand what was going on in the conversation. Clary didn't want Isabelle to hear what was coming from Simon's mouth; she knew it would be too upsetting.

"You mean Isabelle? It's over between the two of us and I didn't want to drag her along unnecessarily."

"That seems hardly fair. She's been trying to call you." Clary chanced a glance towards the other girl. Isabelle was watching Clary intently.

Simon let out a quiet whistle. "I know," he admitted. "I just haven't been able to talk to her since... since I met this girl. She's a witch, you know."

Clary was in disbelief. Partly because Simon was openly admitting to being with someone and also because she was a witch. She couldn't wrap her mind around the idea. "That's... nice," she offered dejectedly.

"Is everything okay?" Simon asked. "You sound upset."

"It's... it's Jace," Clary suddenly sobbed out. The emotions that she had been trying to keep at bay had suddenly crashed through her tightly woven guard. Tears were spilling down her cheeks and her chest heaved with the amount of emotions pouring out of her. She could feel two warm arms wrap around her and the phone was pulled from her hand.

"Listen Simon," Isabelle snapped into the phone. "I don't care what you've been doing, but you need to get back to New York now."

Clary couldn't listen too much of what Isabelle was saying anymore. Her body was trembling with the onslaught of tears. She tried to calm herself down, taking deep, shaky breaths. It was something her mother had once taught her when she was little. Isabelle had also kept a tight hold on her while she continued to talk to Simon.

"They treated us like juvenile delinquents," Isabelle explained in a tight voice. "It was as if we were little kids who had fibbed about someone we didn't like. No one believed what actually happened and then we were booted out of the city." Clary stared at her hands while Isabelle listened to whatever Simon was saying. Her sobs had died down enough that she could listen properly. "Well, it's moot point now." Isabelle shook her head. "Okay, we'll see you when you get here." She hung up the phone and handed it back to Clary. "He's going to catch the next flight back to New York today. He might be home for dinner." Isabelle scoffed at her own words.

Just then Alec burst into the room, sweat beading off his forehead, panting. His eyes were wide, searching their faces. Clary thought he looked panicked at first, but when he properly composed himself, he was grinning with excitement. "A portal just opened in the harbour again. Magnus just called me when I was two blocks away. I ran all the way home!" He was the most animated Clary had ever seen him. "I think its Sebastian. There were three Shadowhunters, though." He frowned at his own words, perhaps not too sure if he was relaying the news properly.

"It could be Elodie too. She has to be part of all of this," Isabelle replied. She had already recomposed herself from her talk with Simon. She was fixing her hair, pulling it back into one long braid. Clary was jealous at how fast Isabelle could pull herself together. But she tried to mimic the Lightwoods emotions, standing up and rolling her shoulders back. She took in a long, deep breath. Already she felt better, more focused. Now all she needed was to put on her gear to really get her mind set.

_This could be it,_ she told herself. "Give us five minutes and we'll be ready," she told Alec, while simultaneously grabbing Isabelle's arm. The two of them hurried down the hall to their bedrooms. Clary was quick to pull on her fighting gear; training had really paid off for this moment. She made sure to grab her stele before she left her room.

Isabelle was already in the infirmary, pulling Angel blades off the wall and placing them in her belt; her electrum whip already coiled around her wrist. She passed two blades to Clary, along with a few daggers. Clary wasn't sure that they really needed all the gear, but she was sure that Isabelle had no intention of being caught short-handed. That girl was on a revenge mission.


	15. Monster

_Disclaimer: I don't on TMI, but I sure have fun playing games with the characters._

* * *

Clary hadn't felt more awake in the past two days than she did now. Magnus had created a portal just outside a building on the harbour, close to where the first one had been opened, but far enough away that they wouldn't be given away. Alec was leading their hunting party, Isabelle and Magnus flanked him on either side, and Clary was bringing up the rear. She followed them through the small alleys in between many buildings, occasionally checking over her shoulder. As dangerous as the four of them were to any threat, she didn't want to get caught unprepared for any kind of encounter. They all moved with such silence that Clary was afraid to take a wrong step and break a twig. There was such an intensity radiating from all of them that it filled the air around them. Or perhaps it was the faint flickers of blue flames that sparked from Magnus's fingers every so often. Even without a weapon on him, Magnus looked more dangerous than either of the Lightwoods. He had changed into a very sombre black outfit, embedded with sharp spikes on the spine of his jacket.

Alec stopped in his tracks, at the edge of the shadows they were hidden in. He signalled for them to gather round. He pointed out towards the cement landing before the harbour docks. They were situated only a half-mile from where she had been held hostage. A twinge of uneasiness shot through her stomach at the memory of being caught in the shed with Simon. Clary had never thought they would come back to this area for a very similar reason.

She looked to where Alec was pointing. There were two people holding up a third body. They had cloaks on with their hoods raised to cover their faces. There wasn't enough light to make out what they were doing, but Clary was certain that they were dragging the body off to hide somewhere. "I'm going to sneak over, try to see where they are going. I want all of you to stay here."

"I didn't cancel all my appointment to just stand here," Magnus objected. More blue flames erupted from his fingers, lighting the area.

"Magnus," Alec warned. He looked over to the hooded people, making sure they hadn't caught the bright outburst of light. Magnus put his hands in his pockets, but Clary could see that even his pockets glowed with a dark black-blue colour. He must have been itching for a fight at that moment, and Clary couldn't quite understand why.

"I haven't been allowed to go rogue on a Shadowhunter before, I'm just a little excited," Magnus pointed out to Alec. Clary could understand that much. Even Downworlders liked to get in some action one in a while.

Alec let out a frustrated breath. "Fine you can come with me. You two have to stay here." He pointed to Clary and Isabelle.

Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm going with you too."

Alec sighed again in aggravation. Things were not going his way at all. "I take it you're not going to stand here either Clary?"

She shook her head. She wanted in on the action just as much as the others. Alec rolled his eyes—something he would have never done before, Clary noted—and whispered orders so they wouldn't be overheard. He was going to go first, followed by Clary and Magnus, and Isabelle was going to watch their backs.

Alec was almost as stealthy as Jace, Clary noticed with a pang of sorrow. As much as she was focused on their mission, her mind would never be completely cleared of Jace. She wanted to find him.

One of the people pulled their hoods back as they approached and Clary squinted through the darkness to make out the person. She saw a head full of dark, raven hair and it was all she needed to see that it was Sebastian. Before anyone could pull her back, Clary went forward in an all-out sprint. She pulled out her Angel blade, quickly named it _Arathiel, _and lunged at Sebastian. Just as she reached him, he turned around. Clary realised as she leapt into the air that she was gravely mistaken. He fell down to the ground, Clary landing on top of him, muttering a loud curse as he hit cement. "Robert?" she said, completely confused. She had raised her blade high into the air, the light of it illuminating his face, and she nearly dropped her blade. Clary lowered her blade, embarrassment flooding her cheeks.

"Clary?" he said back, also very confused.

Clary stood up, looking over to the other hooded body. It was Maryse Lightwood, supporting a third person all on her own. She had flung her hood off her face, looking as bewildered as Clary felt.

Clary looked at the person she was holding up; a man of maybe fifty, mostly long, gray hair, and very, very pale. He looked sickly, like he hadn't seen the sun in months. Robert went over to Maryse to help lay the man down on the ground. He moaned as he was slowly lowered down, but didn't make any other noise than that.

"Clary!" Isabelle's voice rang out very close to her. She looked back to see her running with her whip trailing behind her. She stopped suddenly when she realised it was her parents standing in the harbour. "Mother? What are you doing here?"

Maryse had recomposed herself, standing tall and imposing in the darkness. Clary could make out her scowl in the low light. "I should be asking you the same thing. All of you."

Alec and Magnus had also caught up. Alec held his bow in his hand, but it was lowered. Neither of them looked as hostile as Isabelle had moments ago. Her whip was now on her belt, along with her other weapons. "We came to find Jace," Isabelle explained. "He's been missing almost three days now. Ever since the trial in Alicante—"

"You went to the trial?" Robert cut her off. "It wasn't supposed to happen until we got back."

Alec opened his mouth and shut it almost as fast. He looked back and forth from his parents to the man lying on the ground, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. "That's Inquisitor Ravenscar, isn't it? But he's supposed to be dead."

Robert shook his head. "Not dead, just missing."

"That's not what the Clave told us," Alec argued. "I was told that he was dead and that Elodie had replaced him."

"Elodie?" Maryse spoke up, confusion lacing her smooth voice. "You mean Elodie _Verlac_? She wasn't supposed to be sworn in until we found a body."

"Well," Isabelle put in, "they didn't wait."

Clary was trying to keep up with all that was being said, but her mind was still focused on finding Jace. It wasn't anything new that they were talking about. Alec and Isabelle took turns explaining the last few days, Alec would cut Isabelle off whenever she went off topic a bit, complaining about the Clave and by the time Robert and Maryse were up to date Clary had had enough of standing around. They were nowhere closer to finding Jace, standing in the harbour, with the not-so-dead, real Inquisitor. "Are you not worried at all about Jace?" she asked when neither of the Lightwoods seemed overly concerned about their missing son.

"Just because we're not panicked or anxious doesn't mean we're not concerned," Maryse told Clary, looking at her with slight kindness. It was the most affectionate Clary had ever seen Maryse look at her. "I want to find him just as much as you, only I have years more patience. We need to get back to the Institute and contact the Clave. Now that we've found Inquisitor Ravenscar, we can remove Elodie from the Council. From the way you described her, she's become reckless and foolish. Pain from losing a child—even one that is not truly your own—can change a person dramatically." Maryse looked cold and withdrawn again when she stopped talking. Clary couldn't help but think of Max and the effects his death had on the Lightwoods. She was certain that Isabelle drank away her misery every year on the day of his death. Isabelle was tough, but she wasn't invulnerable. Clary was just glad to see that none of them had gone as mental as Imogen Herondale. She still got shudders when she thought of the Jace's dead grandmother.

Clary didn't think it was the best thing for them to just contact the Clave and see what happened, but she didn't argue her feelings. If Maryse wanted to sit back and take things slow, Clary was going to respect her—Maryse had, after all been the one to allow her to live and train in the Institute.

"Do you smell anything bad?" Magnus's voice cut through the silence.

Isabelle put a hand to her neck, gripping her red pendant.

Alec's head whipped around to look at Magnus. He seemed to smell the air. "Demons," he said quietly and pulled out an arrow. He held the tip out to Magnus. "A little fire?"

Magnus touched the tip of the arrow and it burst into a small, contained fire. Alec had it placed in his bow, aimed into the shadows of the building they had been hiding in and let go. Clary watched as is sailed gracefully into the air and came down at lightning speed. She thought it was going to just hit the ground, but when she saw it stop a few feet from the ground she took in a quick breath. There came a loud, feral growl as the arrow impaled _into_ something.

Around her the other Nephilim had already drawn out their weapons. Alec had switched to holding two Angel blades, Isabelle had her whip out again, and their parents each held a pair of daggers each. Magnus, who had seemed bored, had a wicked grin on his face. "I think someone sent us a gift," he said.

The first advance of demons was Raum. Isabelle almost called it child's play, at the amount of speed that she was able to crack her whip and destroy the demons. It didn't take long for her to get a hold of one of the demons tentacles and wrap her electrum whip around it tight. She revelled in the satisfaction of severing the red-tipped tentacle from its body, bringing a long and drawn out wail from the creature. She pulled a dagger out of her belt and tossed it expertly into its heart, sending it back to whatever dimension it had come from.

Isabelle quickly charged the next one, slicing perfect gashes in its back. The demon screeched out in pain before it started to buckle in on itself. She wrapped her electrum whip around its head, squeezing it for good measure. When it died, it exploded, spraying blood and ichor all over her clothes. In any other circumstance, she wouldn't have cared, but those were her new boots.

She quickly looked over her shoulder to see Alec kill his demon too. Once satisfied with his position, she ran over to check on Clary, being circled by her Raum demon. Isabelle could see a long gash on Clary's forearm, slowly dripping blood onto the ground. Isabelle had to give it to her though; she didn't look like she was going to back down. Despite her two years of training, Clary still looked vulnerable. Maybe it was her very slight frame, or the innocent look of her face, but demons and Downworlders always seemed to find her as the easiest target.

Isabelle was going to step in and help, but she heard a shout from behind her just as her pendant pulsed against her throat again. Whipping her head around, she saw another hoard of demons creep out from the shadows of the buildings. Alec was already advancing the group, flanked by their father and Magnus. Isabelle looked around swiftly to find her mother standing guard by the Inquisitor. None of the demons had managed to get close enough to Maryse to cause any harm. Her mother was one of the toughest fighters she knew.

But these demons were different. She saw the shadowy, human-like figures creep out from their hiding places. Their glowing yellow eyes gave away exactly what they were; Iblis demons. She quickly coiled her whip around her arm and drew out an Angel blade. There would be no need to snap at them; blades would be a lot more fun. "_Jahol,"_ she quickly named her blade.

She ran into the group slashing away violently, feeling the rain of ash as she destroyed several demons at once. They hardly had time to make any noise as they went back to their original dimension. This time she was able to fight side-by-side with her brother. He had drawn out two of his own blades, slashing with a fierceness he usually only reserved for dire times. But these were not dire times, and Isabelle considered that maybe he was being more forceful because he was making up for the lack of Jace. Or maybe he had finally found a reason to be more passionate about fighting. She knew how he still preferred his books to actual fighting.

By the time all the Iblis demons had disappeared, Isabelle realised that there were no more attacks to come. The wind had picked up, taking away the stench of rotting flesh and death, and any signs that demons had even been present. "Well, that was too easy," she complained. "Hardly took ten minutes."

Clary walked over to her, a stele in her hand, and gave it to Isabelle. "My hand is shaking a bit too much for me to draw and _Iratze._ Could you do it for me?"

Isabelle quickly drew the healer onto Clary's arm, glad to see the wound heal up. The only thing it couldn't do was remove the long bruise that marked her skin where the cut had originally been. Clary looked calm, for the first time in days, Isabelle realised.

Isabelle couldn't help but overhear Alec talking to Magnus behind her. His low voice carried too well in the quiet after the fight. "I don't understand why there was a flock of demons," he was saying. "It was like someone had sent them here purposely after us. Like they had been summoned. I highly doubt that there was a nest of demons around here that we had somehow missed after all these years."

She turned around to look at the two conversing. Magnus was rubbing his temples with his pointer fingers. Small bright sparks were shooting out of them, loud cracking noises came with every burst. "I don't think it was anything random. It was a distraction. While we were all preoccupied, someone opened a portal."

"Where?" Robert asked. Isabelle watched as her father walked over to the warlock. "Can you pin point the area?"

Magnus closed his eyes, sighing a little. When he opened his eyes, they were swimming with worry. "It's the Institute."

Clary had a mixture of emotions running through her all at once. Excitement, fear, longing, and panic. She didn't know which one was the strongest but she tried to push them all away and keep her at bay. Being emotionally unstable would not help anyone at this time. She tried to focus on the scene in front of her, figure out exactly how she was going to fight her way into the Institute.

Currently, a blanket of fog was surrounding the building, covering whatever was hiding within the confines of the metal gate. Occasionally a sound of moaning, or a hiss, or a low growl would make its way across the street to where they were situated, but nothing materialised out of the fog. She guessed that there was a combination of demons hiding in the fog. She recognized the familiar hiss of a Ravenor, speaking too quiet for Clary to make out its words; but she was certain it was talking about food or prey it intended on killing. There was the rare flash of colour, possibly more demons arriving outside the Institute, but Clary hoped that it was just less dense patches in the fog giving away the colour of a demon, or a glimpse of their eyes.

Either way, Clary felt like she was about to be thrown to the sharks. Two years of training had given her the ability to fight and protect herself, but it hadn't given her the same confidence that the Lightwoods all shared. It had been decided almost as soon as they had reached the Institute that Maryse would take care of the Inquisitor, bringing him to a building a block away from their home. Robert and Alec had carried him and returned soon after.

Clary was still rubbing her arm where she had been slashed by the demon she had been caught off guard by. It was properly healed, bruising was the only sign that anything had happened to her, but the phantom pain was still there. She brought out her stele from her pocket then, retracing runes on her arm that would help her in the upcoming fight. The burning pain was enough the pull her thoughts straight and let her focus on what was truly important. In a matter of minutes they would be charging into the fog, and she was going to make her way into the Institute to hopefully find Jace.

She was certain now that Sebastian and Elodie had managed to overpower him and bring him back here. There was no other excuse she could come up with to explain why Jace had been gone so long. He would not simply disappear. She knew him too well.

To further prove her theory, Maryse had been in quick contact with the Clave, explaining that Elodie had been in cahoots with Sebastian all along, and that she had most likely kidnapped Jace. They had received a quick message back, telling them that the Consul had been marked with a Rune that no one had been aware of, rendering him completely under the influence of Elodie. It should have made her feel better, but Clary still had a sense of dread fill her mind. What if they were already too late? What if this was all for nothing?

Isabelle put her hand on her shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts. The older girl looked determined, not doubtful. Clary was jealous of her. "We're going to be fine," she tried to reassure Clary. "Jace won't be far and we'll get him back." Isabelle smiled at Clary. It was filled with confidence.

"Okay," Clary said, not trusting her voice to not crack.

"Want me to put a few more Runes on you? Something to clear your head?"

Clary nodded and held her arms out to Isabelle. She already had Runes, but more would be helpful. In the end, she only put on two more Runes. One for focus, and another for endurance. Isabelle had already re-done her own marks, and was poised for battle.

"I think it's now or never," Alec said to their small group. He looked just as stoic as his father then. "We can stand around here and plan out everything, but I think we all know that plans usually go to hell once we get out there."

Magnus nodded his head in agreement. Robert pulled out his Angel blades, readying himself.

"Let's go and kick some ass," Isabelle decided, uncoiling her whip from her wrist. "I'm done with waiting."

Clary readied herself, branding two blades herself. She waited for Robert to lead the way, following closely behind the others as they made their first charge into the fog. She half expected someone to yell out their charge, but knew that giving away their position would only bring more demons to them faster.

As quick as they were across the street and into the fog, Clary had lost sight of the others. She could hear their voices, shouting and yelling, but she couldn't focus on what they were saying. Magnus was near-by; the constant flashing of blue through the fog was clearly evidence; as well as his loud laugh. He seemed to be having fun.

But all Clary was intent on doing was getting inside. She made her way through the fog to the entrance, hanging close to the brick walls, finding nothing in her way. When she made it to the door, she had a moment's hesitation.

There was a low, sucking sound behind her and Clary turned around to find a Ravenor close to her. It stank just as bad as any demon she had ever encountered and she quickly leapt at it. Her blade came down in one swift motion—the glow of her blade momentarily breaking through the fog—cutting the demon in half. Clary practically jumped with excitement at her own swiftness, then realised that she was acting nothing like a Shadowhunter. She saw movement out of the side of her peripheral and decided to not take the chance dawdling outside the door. Speaking in a low voice she said, "_In the name of the Angel, I, Clarissa—"_

The door opened, beckoning her inside the building. She didn't take her time running to the elevator. Her heart was pounding; adrenaline was making her eager for more action; or perhaps it was just the Runes on her arms, driving her forward. Either way, it was the longest ride up she had ever experienced in her years at the Institute.

Finally, the door clanged open, releasing her from the elevator. She took a few slow steps forward, remembering the training she had been given. Clary listened hard, noticing how utterly silent the hallway was—Church was nowhere to be seen and Clary hoped he was just hiding somewhere until all this was over. As annoying as the cat could be at times, she would never want to see the family pet dead.

She figured the best place to start would be the weapons room. If anyone was in here, they would want to gear up for an unavoidable fight. Clary made her way slowly, always checking over her shoulder for any kind of movement. When she made it to the door, she saw it marked with a locking Rune. She brought out her stele, intent on opening the door, when someone spoke behind her.

"Looking for more weapons?"

Clary reached for her second Angel blade, quickly shoving her stele away. She knew Jace would be proud of her for wanting to fight double-handed. It gave her a boost of confidence. "I was actually looking for you, Elodie. You seem to have taken someone from me and I want him back."

Elodie came out from the protection of the shadowy hallway. She was dressed in fighting gear too, but she looked much more intimidating than Clary could ever be. Her hair was tied back much in the same way Maryse had her hair, and her eyes were cold and narrowed. Clary's eyes found her seraph blade, unglowing.

Not thinking about anything but taking down her opponent, Clary made the first move. She lunged forward, then at the last second, feigned to the right. Clary swung both her blades out at once, only to connect with Elodie's one. "I'm not very impressed," she hissed at Clary. "I thought with your blood that you would be much stronger than that."

Clary dropped back, repositioning herself to the left of Elodie. The older woman matched her stance, holding her blade lazily at her side. This time, Elodie was the first to lunge; coming straight forward. Clary had just enough reaction time to bring her blades up, crossing them in front of her. Elodie kicked out with her foot, catching Clary's stomach with enough force to send her falling backwards. She dropped one of her blades as she landed on her back, skidding along the floor. Clary was quick to recover, rolling back onto her feet, weapon out just as another blow came at her.

And so they continued to battle; each taking their turn driving forward with a blade, blocking a jab, kicking out at exposed body parts. Clary managed to get the upper hand, swiping at Elodie's knees. The older woman fell down into a crouch, panting, but wasn't down for long. Clary had just enough time to pick up her second blade and held it out in front of her again.

Her heart danced with excitement, and she finally understood why Jace longed for battle on a regular basis. Nothing was as exciting or fast paced or dangerous as a fight like this. Clary wanted to strike out, to wield her weapons in the most deadly of ways. Elodie had caused her so much pain and trouble, that Clary couldn't help but charge forward as soon as she had collected her second blade.

Her age seemed to be catching up with her, and Elodie faulted again, letting Clary take a swipe at her weapons arm. It was a clean cut, when Clary nicked the inside of Elodie's wrist, and her seraph blade came crashing to the floor. Clary spun around, using her momentum to kick Elodie flying back against the wall. She hit it with such force that the wall buckled and cracked behind her. Clary didn't have to check on her to know she had been knocked out cold. Instead, she traced a Rune of binding on her wrists and ankles to keep her there if she managed to wake up.

There was a clapping sound behind her suddenly, and Clary looked up in surprise. Sebastian was standing down the hallway, near the entrance to the training room. "Well done Angel. I didn't think you had it in you to take her down."

"I've got a lot more where that came from," Clary answered, ignoring the Angel remark. She walked towards Sebastian, carefully holding her weapons in front of her. Just as she got within two feet of him, he ducked into the training room, laughing.

"Come and get me Angel..."


	16. Love and Truth

_Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Insturments._

* * *

Sebastian was waiting in the middle of the room. It was lighted perfectly, letting every nook and cranny be seen. If there was anyone else hiding in the room, Clary would be able to see them right away. She couldn't think of anyone else who would be there though; it seemed to be Sebastian and Elodie the entire time. She noticed with interest that Sebastian didn't have a single weapon on him. He was just dressed in typical fighting gear.

Clary considered throwing her blades to the side, to match Sebastian, but she knew better than to overestimate her own strength. Sebastian had overpowered her easily enough once, and she was not willing to give him any kind of upper hand this time. "Where's Jace?" she asked, unable to keep the words from her mouth.

Sebastian smiled and shook his head. "You're not going to get the answer to that. But I will tell you, he's not dead yet." He looked so pleased with himself that Clary had to make herself stand still and not dive at him. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smile off his face.

She watched as Sebastian took a lazy step forward, and she took an equal pace back. He smiled and lunged at her so suddenly that she hardly had time to react. Clary managed to duck under his first arm, but she wasn't fast enough to escape his back hand. Sebastian clipped the middle of her back with his elbow, making her stumble forward, more central to the room. She twisted her arms around as she caught her balance, lashing out at Sebastian before he could put distance between the two of them. He gasped out in pain, and Clary saw that she had sliced into his arm, through the material of his jacket. Sebastian shrugged out of it and Clary saw a hefty amount of runes decorating his skin. She noticed as he clutched his injured arm that he had a bright red Rune on his wrist, much like the one she had only recently adorned.

"Funny thing, this Rune," Sebastian gestured to his arm, noticing her blatant stare. "It wasn't supposed to transfer, but that just made everything all the more fun."

She watched as Sebastian began to walk closer to her. Her eyes couldn't stray from his arm for very long. It was like the Rune was still on her own skin, controlling her. Clary didn't react fast enough at his second advance. His face was right in front of hers and he had his hands wrapped tightly around her wrists. Clary gasped in pain and reluctantly let the blades fall from her hands. _How was he so fast? _She shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

His grip still on her, Sebastian brought his knee up, smashing it into Clary's rib cage. He didn't hit her hard enough to break or fracture any of the bones, but the impact hurt enough that Clary let out a loud cry of pain. Her knees were buckling under her and Sebastian let her go falling to the floor. She clutched at her ribs with one hand, using the other to prop herself back up into a sitting position. Her breath was coming quick and sharp; it was harder for her to breath now that he ribs had been kneed. Clary was helpless to watch as Sebastian came back at her, brandishing one of her seraph blades.

_I can't believe this is it already,_ she thought. _But what would Jace do?_

She thought of how he always had something smart to say when he found himself cornered by Alec or Isabelle, or even herself. A quick one-liner to throw off the mood and he had full advantage. Clary thought quickly, and let the first thing that came to her mind spill out of her mouth. "If this weren't a life and death situation, I think I may actually find this kinky."

That stopped Sebastian in his tracks. He looked incredulously at her. "You've got to be kidding me."

Clary laughed a little hysterically. She couldn't believe he had actually been thrown off guard. "I am," she admitted.

Slowly, as if savouring the moment, Sebastian came to kneel in front of her. Clary acted without thinking, swiping out at his face with her hand. She could feel her nails rip into his skin, and they came away slightly tainted with blood. There was not time for her to feel anything but more pain as Sebastian retaliated with a heavy hand. Stars burst behind Clary's eyes as he smashed the side of her head with the handle of one of her own Angel blades. It knocked her flat onto her back.

She blinked back the lights and saw Sebastian backing away from her. He pulled out a stele and drew a healing Rune on his arm. Clary watched as the gash on his arm disappeared, as well as the red Rune. Then he carefully tossed one of her blades up into the air, high into the ceiling rafters, catching it perfectly on the hilt. She didn't know what to make of it, though.

He flexed his arm, testing its limits, seemingly pleased. He came back to Clary, knelt down by her feet and pulled her left leg out. Too dizzy to stop him, she let a small whimper escape her mouth.

For a moment, Sebastian stayed on his knees, rubbing the fabric that covered her calf. Clary wasn't sure if he was debating what to do next, or had calculated this moment. He looked into her eyes as he gripped her ankle hard and twisted it. She couldn't hold back the scream as she felt the bones break. It was nothing she had ever felt, this pain. "What kind of sick game is this to you?" she asked, trying to ignore the pain.

"Do you not like playing games?" Sebastian asked, leaning closer to her. She tried to push herself back, keep the distance between them, but she hit the wall all too soon. Her head was swimming with dizziness, the hit she had received did more than just rattle her brain—it completely threw her for a loop. She felt almost drunk with her reaction time.

There was nothing that she could grab to use as a weapon, she realised too late as she felt around her body for anything. There was an object poking into her back and Clary remembered her stele. If only she had a moment to pull it out, she could try and heal her body, or at least use it as another weapon. She had been banking on stumbling on any piece of forgotten equipment from training that would put her at an advantage. Now all she could do was hope that Sebastian would back away from her to give her long enough to pull her stele out.

His breath fanned across her breath, smelling of an odd mix of mint and garlic. Sebastian smiled. "I really like this," he spoke quietly. "You, the helpless girl, and me, the strong, vengeful man. I didn't kill Jace for a reason, you know. It'll be fun, seeing him try in vain to avenge your death—"

Clary couldn't help but let out a loud sob. Her body was shaking uncontrollably. She still couldn't see straight.

"Oh? You thought I would let you live?" He stroked his newly ruined face. She could see four long lines starting from his temple, wrapping around his cheek and ending at his chin. Clary could at least take pride in her handiwork. He was nowhere near as attractive as he had once seemed. "I considered it, before you ruined my face. You know," he added. "I was the one who sent all those demons on you, a few months back. It was fun, watching you struggle to fight them."

"You're a vain, sadistic pig," Clary spat at him. Images of the Forsaken from her birthday briefly passed her mind. She was having trouble keeping any thought straight. "Even if you kill me today, you won't live long enough to enjoy it."

Sebastian laughed at her. "Who is going to get me? Jace is unconscious, Alec is too much of a coward to kill me, and their slut of a sister is pretty much self explanatory."

Anger was boiling within Clary. Her fists were balled so tightly that she could feel the familiar trickle of blood. She pushed herself back up and lashed out, striking Sebastian's face again, this time with her fist. It felt good, the violent retribution. He stumbled back, dropping her seraph blade in order to grip his bleeding nose, groaning in pain. It was too far for her to reach, she saw. There was no way that she could drag herself close. And even if she could get to it, she knew she was useless without the use of both her legs. Clary let herself smile at her second handy-work on Sebastian's face. It was more of a grimace, but all the same, it made her feel better. "You really are stupid, you know. That's twice now I've hit you in the face."

She knew she only had seconds before Sebastian would reach her again, so she acted as fast as she could. Clary pulled out her stele from her back pocket and slammed it down onto the hardwood floor, flames coming up from the contact. It didn't take long for her to draw the familiar shapes of the mark she wanted. She had done it once before, and it came faster this time. It was still amazing how such lines could be both straight and never ending at the same time. _Infinity,_ she said the name in her head, much like she had the night before her eighteenth birthday. It had been Sebastian who had sent the original Forsaken warrior against her, making her create the Rune. Now, she would use it specifically against him.

She could see him slowing down; everything around her seemed to go even more still. Clary forced herself back up, knowing that she had less than a minute. She crawled over and picked up her Angel blade, not needing to name it, and brought it back in preparation to throw it.

But the moment never came for her to strike. Just as she had her blade raised, one was suddenly protruding from Sebastian's chest. The effect of the Rune slipped away as Clary watched Sebastian fall limp to the floor, a pool of blood circling his now dead body. His face held a look of shock, his eyes wide in surprise.

Clary looked back up to where Sebastian had been standing, to see Jace grinning above her. He looked like he hadn't slept since she'd last seen him. There were dark patches under his eyes, and he had a few days worth of a beard on his face. She couldn't believe he was there. After the past few days of worrying and debating where he had been, and then to have him just show up; Clary wasn't sure what to think. "You stole my thunder," she said to him, realising a little too late how stupid that sounded.

He was still standing above her, a funny look on his face, and looking more than a little dishevelled. "Well, I did say I would run a seraph blade through his heart. And you know I'm no liar. What kind of man would I be if I wasn't true to my word?"

"You'd still be my man," Clary told him honestly, letting out a sigh of relief. The reality was flooding through her body, finally seeing Jace standing there, unharmed, and as beautiful as ever. She could feel a huge weight being lifted as she finally could grasp that he was alive and fine.

Jace dropped to the ground beside her and pulled her into a tight embrace. Clary tried to ignore the pain in her chest, but it was unavoidable. She gasped as Jace's strong arms enveloped her. He pulled back, concern plastering his face. His fingers danced softly over her skin, testing her state. When he reached her ribs again, Clary shook her head, trying in vain to keep her body from reacting.

He quickly unzipped her jacket and pulled it off, tossing it behind him, and pushed up her shirt. Clary looked down at her ribs, shocked at how red and bruised they already looked. She didn't realise she was still clutching her stele until Jace gently pried it from her fingers. He drew a quick healing Rune and put the stele in his back pocket. Clary could feel the immediate effects of the _Iratze_; her breathing felt easy again, and her chest didn't shake from pain. Even her head began to clear, the dizziness drifting away.

"Can you stand up?" he asked.

Clary nodded but regretted it right away. As soon as she was on her feet, her ankle gave way and she collapsed into Jace. "My ankle, I forgot."

Jace didn't look pleased with her. "How could you forget your ankle?"

"I was just distracted with seeing you again." Clary knew it sounded lame, even to her, but it was the truth. She looked down, seeing the dead body of Sebastian on the ground. Shivers ran down her spine at the sight of him. "He was actually going to kill me."

Jace picked Clary up bridal style and walked her out of the room. She looked back to where Elodie had been lying on the floor unconscious but didn't see her there. She wasn't sure where she had gone to but didn't say anything. Jace kept quiet until they were in his bedroom and he had put her down onto his bed. He knelt down on the floor and pulled her broken ankle into his hands gingerly. "I'm going to put another _iratze _on your ankle, but I don't think it's going to heal it perfectly. We may have to get Alec's crutches out of storage." He was frowning as he pulled out Clary's stele and traced the mark onto her skin. When the initial sting of the Rune was gone Jace kissed the skin. The immediate, stinging pain of the break dissipated, but it was still ballooning and throbbed. She sighed and tried to ignore the pain like she had been trained to do. It was the territory that came with being a Shadowhunter.

"Jace?" Clary asked once she had a hold of the pain.

Jace looked up at her and Clary wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but she knew there were more important issues at hand.

"Elodie... she's—I knocked her out in the hallway, but I didn't see her there." As much as she wanted to assume that maybe Jace had moved her body, she didn't think that was the case.

Jace frowned again, but didn't say anything.

"CLARY!" Isabelle's voice called out from the hallway. She didn't sound very far away. "That girl," she was practically growling as she spoke to someone else, "has got to learn to not jump into the fire. CLARY!" Isabelle's voice was very close by the time she shouted out her name again.

"We're in here," Jace replied. He stood up and went over to his doorway just as Isabelle and Alec came into view. Alec looked stunned to see his parabati there, but Isabelle looked just as angry as she had sounded before she found them. Her whip was dangling dangerously at her side. Clary was worried that she was going to hit something with it.

Isabelle barely looked at Jace as she stormed over to Clary, still sitting on the bed. "Here we were, fighting off a hoard of demons, and you just up and disappear. Then they disappear too and I come up here with Alec and find Elodie trying to get into the elevator. She looked like she had just woken up and couldn't talk properly—and she kept saying your name. Then we find a corpse in the training room, but no one else! And here you two are getting all cozy."

Alec put a hand on Isabelle's shoulder, trying to calm her down a bit. "I think she's trying to say that you worried her."

Isabelle let out a noise of irritation that sounded very similar to a swear word and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked at Jace and finally seemed to see him. "Of course you'd be here, after everything is over."

"I missed you too sis," Jace said to her, laughing a little. He put a hand on her shoulder and she uncrossed her arms.

"I take it you have a reason why you gone for three days?"

Jace smirked. "I took up a new hobby. It was all encompassing."

Alec let out a snicker. "I take it that's your wording for being held hostage?"

Jace shrugged his shoulders and didn't offer up any more. Clary could see from the way he held his shoulders and avoided eye contact that he wasn't comfortable with the recent events. He was never the damsel in distress. "I think we should probably take care of the mess in the other room," Clary suggested, trying to change the conversation. "I don't think the Clave is going to be happy with the news though."

"The Clave is never happy," Isabelle added, but there was a small smile on her face. She wasn't as angry as she had been letting on. "C'mon, we need to get to work. Mom is going to throw a fit now that there's a huge blood stain in the training room."

"I can't walk," Clary informed the Lightwoods. "Sebastian broke my ankle."

"I'll stay with you," Jace offered moving over to her.

Isabelle shook her head and grabbed a hold of Jace. "Oh no," she said and pulled him over to Alec and let go of him there. "I know that look. You're reunion is going to have to wait until later." She went over to Clary and pushed her down onto the bed so she was lying down. "You can just lie here and heal that ankle of yours alone. Have a nap—I don't care."

As much as Clary wanted to be alone with Jace, or at least help the others, the idea of a nap was very tempting. "Sure thing Izzy."

Isabelle left the room with Alec, allowing Clary and Jace a minute alone. Jace took his time helping Clary under the blankets, propping up her ankle with a pillow. He sat down beside her on the bed once she was settled in and watched her for a moment. Clary reached her hand out to him and he took it. She could see him struggling to say something, his eyes staring at a spot on his impeccably clean room. His breathing was even and controlled, so Clary knew he wasn't angry over anything. "You don't have to say anything," she told him after she watched him open and close his mouth several times." It was so out of character for him to be so quiet and reserved.

"I know." He leaned over her and kissed her forehead. "You just sleep for now; we can talk in the morning—get reacquainted." Jace winked at her. At least some of his typical behaviour was still present.

Clary smiled and nodded her head. "I like the idea of that." She let her eyes close, realising how exhausted she was now that all the adrenaline and worry and anticipation was worn off. She felt Jace get off the bed, but didn't open her eyes again. She let sleep come to her, knowing that she would wake up and find Jace in the morning.


	17. Boys

_Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns the Mortal Insutrments._

* * *

Clary's dreams had quickly turned from event-less to torture. She had seen Sebastian in her slumber, still alive, coming after her with the seraph blade still sticking out of his chest. Disturbed by the image, Clary woke up. She tried to sit up but there was a weight across her chest, pinning her down.

Jace.

He was still sleeping peacefully on his stomach. He must have showered before coming to bed because his curls had a funny slept-on look that only happened when he went to bed with wet hair. The dirt on his skin was also gone, as was the worst of the bruising on his skin. No matter how still he could sleep, the covers never seemed to stay on his body. He was only wearing boxers and seemed to be shivering from the lack of heat in the room.

The sun had already risen, and from the way the light cast shadows across the room, it looked like it was beginning to set. This surprised Clary to find Jace so fast asleep. Even with a handful of hours of sleep, Jace was always up with the sun. He never slept the whole day.

As much as Clary wanted to lay in bed with Jace, her bladder had more pressing issues. She moved his arm off her chest as slowly as possible, wanting to let Jace sleep a little longer, and crawled to the end of the bed as best she could without irritating her ankle. She gingerly put her feet down on the floor and pushed herself up. Pain shot down her leg, into her ankle. She sat down again. Getting to the bathroom was going to be more of a challenge than she thought.

Being as quiet as she could, Clary half-hopped and half-limped to the bathroom. She tried her best to shower quickly, but found it difficult to stand on one leg without falling over. By the time she stepped out of the bathroom Jace was pulling a clean shirt over his head, ready for the evening.

"You were supposed to be sleeping," Clary said with a frown.

"You're supposed to be off that foot," he responded, pointing at her ankle. "I may have to spank you."

"You'd find it too rewarding," she retorted.

"And you'd find it more of a reward than a punishment." Jace smirked at her. "I took the liberty and grabbed your clothes from your room." He pointed to a tidy pile of clothing on the bed. "I didn't think you'd want to stay in those ones."

"Thanks," Clary said gratefully.

She made her way over to her bed slowly, under Jace's scrutiny. He scowled as Clary struggled to keep all the weight off her ankle while she sat down. "It's never going to heal properly if you keep walking around."

"And I'm going to get restless sitting all day. Do you really expect me to do nothing?"

Letting out a long sigh, Jace sat down beside her on the bed. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought her closer. "I think we've gone over this conversation before. You're too stubborn to listen. Just don't get up again until I find you a pair of crutches."

Clary looked up at him and smiled. "Okay."

He stood up to leave. "I'll be back in a bit. A few members of the Clave should be arriving so it would be best if you got changed while I'm gone."

He kissed her quickly on the cheek before walking out of the room. Jace shut the door behind him, leaving Clary alone to change into her fresh clothes. She examined the pile with much the same scrutiny that Jace had previously bestowed on her. He hadn't picked out anything terrible; they were just clothes she would have never picked out herself. There were her shorts that hardly covered any of her legs, and a tank-top that she was sure would raise the eyebrows of Maryse as soon as she set eyes on Clary. It was winter and he had her wearing _those_?

As she unwrapped the towel from her body realization dawned on her. Jace hadn't picked out the clothes for his personal entertainment. There were plenty of bruises on her arms and legs that still hadn't faded from the _iratze_ she had been given the night before. He would be showcasing her today—making it undeniably obvious how much the Clave dropped the ball.

At least he picked out her favourite bra and panties.

Once she was dressed, Clary was left with nothing to do. Her sketch pad was in her room—which she remembered with a terrible memory, wouldn't be her room for much longer. Jocelyn had been furious when she found out Clary had been kidnapped. Now, with the most recent events, she wasn't sure she would have an easy time convincing her mother that staying was the best thing for her.

Still, Clary hoped for the opportunity to convince her mother otherwise.

Waiting, she idly pulled at the loose threads in the blanket, impatient for Jace's return. A sudden knock at the door startled her. She shook her head to remove the jitters from her body and answered. "I'm decent Jace, no need to be so..."

Clary saw that it was not Jace stepping into the room, but her mother. She closed the door behind her and walked over to Clary.

"Prudent?" Jocelyn answered for her. "I would think opposite Clary."

"Hi, Mom. I thought you were Jace, he's gone to get something," Clary explained as vaguely as possible.

Jocelyn stood in front of Clary with her arms crossed. She didn't look pleased. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed as she took in Clary's appearance. "Crutches, I was told. He's waiting in the hallway until I've spoken to you."

Clary's heart dropped a little bit. She had never told Jace that she had to move out.

"Mom," she started.

"Let me talk Clarissa," her mother addressed her. It wasn't a good sign. "I understand the risks in being a Shadowhunter and I do accept them. What I don't accept is my eighteen year old daughter hiding secrets from me. I know I over reacted in Alicante, but you need to know where I'm coming from. I've always been worried for your safety, even more so now that you're immersed in it." Jocelyn sat down beside Clary. "I never intended for you to ever get so wrapped up in this world—to have it take over your life. But I know you would never abandon it, especially now that you've got Jace, and that's okay with me."

"Mom..." Clary said again.

"What I want is for you to come home willingly. Stay with Luke and I until that ankle of yours isn't so swollen and then I'll let you be on your way again."

Clary sat there, mouth agape. Did her mother just let her off the hook? She certainly sounded like she did.

"You mean I don't have to move out?"

"No," her mother confirmed.

Clary let out a loud shriek of happiness and flung her arms around her mother. Jocelyn patted her back as Clary embraced her.

"Thank you!" Clary cried out.

Jace tried in earnest not to listen in on Clary's conversation with her mother, but it was too tempting to pass up. The bond between a mother and daughter was so foreign to him that it was purely intrigue that caused him to press an ear to the door in a very childish manner. For the most part, he couldn't make any of the conversation. Jocelyn had moved away from the door quickly, leaving Jace to ponder what she would be telling her daughter.

He shifted his position as his back began to ache. As much as the _iratze _had healed his immediate cuts, the lingering stiffness remained from being held captive and unconscious for a few days. Jace hated being weak, but as much as he hated it, he knew that if he kept his same position by the door he may not be able to hide his own discomfort any longer.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to hear anything audible, he settled for leaning half on the door, and half on the crutches he brought down for Clary. From where he stood he could barely hear the tone of their voices anymore. At least they didn't sound like they were arguing.

Clary let out a loud cry. Jace was tempted to barge through the door in case it was getting ugly, but stopped when he hear her voice.

"_Thank you!_" was all that came through the door.

_At least, _Jace thought, _the doors here are sound proof._

Footsteps came close to the door and Jace swiftly crossed the threshold of the hallway and leaned against the opposite wall in much the same fashion he had just been in. He put a bored look on his face, and found a spot on the floor to stare at just as Jocelyn walked out of the room.

She gave him a small frown. "I suppose you were listening in on our conversation."

Jocelyn said it like a statement. Jace found no reason to answer.

"She's going to be coming home to live with me again," she told him.

"She didn't sound upset."

"It's temporary," Jocelyn admitted. "I can't keep coddling her like a child, but it's hard to let go. She's everything to me."

"Me too," Jace agreed. "But Clary does what she wants, despite what anyone tells her."

Jocelyn laughed quietly. "Clary got that trait from me, unfortunately."

"It's a good trait."

Clary wouldn't admit it, but it was much easier to get around with the crutches. Jace walked a pace behind her, claiming to check her posture. She wasn't so sure it was her _posture_ he was checking out. Maybe the shorts were partially for his benefit after all.

When they reached the library, Clary saw all the Lightwoods there, as well as Magnus (who was deep in conversation with a blushing Alec on the couch), Inquisitor Ravenscar, and two new faces. They were the most intimidating men that Clary had ever seen. One was all dark and angry looking, with a large frown and several weapons on display in his belt. The other, though just as intimidating as the first, was a bit more pleasant in appearance. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't giving all the occupants in the room a death look either.

The Inquisitor looked much healthier than yesterday, conversing with Maryse at the table. Jace had informed her he had been kept unconscious much like him, but didn't divulge any more. She wondered if Jace would ever open up to why he had been captured. She didn't think it completely unlikely; maybe he was just getting over his bruised ego. It was a very reasonable excuse.

Jace helped her into a chair at the table and sat beside her, keeping a hand on her leg. She noticed that the angry Shadowhunter pick a glance her way; his eyes lingered on her legs for an uncomfortable length of time. She looked down at the table, trying to ignore him.

"That angry man," Jace whispered in her ear, "his name is Rhinebeck. Bit of a temper on that one. I spoke to him last night about what happened and he was still intent on blaming us all."

Clary understood why he looked so angry. "Who's the other man?"

Jace took a long look at the second man. "He's the Consul, don't you recognize him? Alec said he was at the trial."

Clary took another look at him. "He shaved off that terrible moustache. That's why I didn't know it was him." Consul Birchwood caught Clary's eye and nodded at her slightly. "Why is he here?"

"Feels the need to see this through, I suppose. He screwed up royally before. I can guess he's trying to make peace with Robert and Maryse. He wasn't supposed to appoint Elodie until they found Birchwood."

Clary nodded. It only seemed fair that he was here.

Someone cleared their throat, silencing the room. Clary looked up to see that it was Rhinebeck. "We are all here for one reason only," he began in a gruff voice. "The recent events concerning the deceased Sebastian Verlac have been brought to light within the Clave. We have made our decision deciding the Nephilim of this Institute. After conversing with the Inquisitor and the Consul, we have decided to dismiss the murder charges set against you."

Rhinebeck's gaze was solely on Jace when he stopped talking. He was glaring, challenging Jace.

Clary looked at Jace, trying to see what he was feeling. His face was sombre and he openly stared back. She hadn't even known there were murder charges.

"You see," the Inquisitor spoke up, his voice still quavering from his recovery, "Sebastian himself may have been under the same influence that Elodie was put under, rendering them both victims—and all of you collateral damage."

"Victims?" Maryse spoke up.

"Collateral damage?" Jace echoed in a similar tone to Maryse. "Who uses that phrase anymore?"

Maryse looked at Jace for a moment before continuing. "I would argue to say that _we're _the victims in this case. All of my children have been affected immensely because of those two."

"Yes, you would think that way," Rhinebeck snapped. Clary saw how tired and bored he seemed with all the banter. "But we have made our decision and would do best not to complain. You were favoured in the end."

"What do you mean Sebastian and Elodie had the same marks?" Robert Lightwood spoke for the first time.

"Exactly what I said—they had Runes on their arms. Runes of a higher level that haven't been seen or used in over a hundred years," Inquisitor Ravenscar explained. "It's hard to rule out a third party at this point, considering we don't know who put the Runes on Sebastian."

"I'll take a wild guess here," Jace said, "and say that he probably had to put the Runes on himself in order to take control of Clary, Elodie, Inquisitor Ravenscar, and even myself. He could have talked to a Warlock to find the right runes to use. I've talked to Magnus about it and he thinks it makes sense."

All eyes went to Magnus, still sitting on the couch next to Alec. He shrugged his shoulders in nonchalance. "It does," he agreed. "The top Rune was one of ownership and in order for it to work; he had to have the same marks applied to him. It was how Sebastian tied them all to him."

Clary could see that the Inquisitor and the Consul were accepting of the explanation. They nodded their heads slightly.

Rhinebeck, on the other hand, did not look so convinced. He glared at Magnus, and then turned back to Maryse. She stared back at him with matched intensity. Maryse was a force to be reckoned with.

"We will be in contact with you if any other evidence comes to light," he spoke in an even tone. Clary thought she could still hear the contempt in his voice. He really was an awful person. "Until then, I suggest you keep to your duties."

He turned to Magnus once again.

"Open the portal, warlock. We have been here too long already."

Magnus stood up and made a grand bow to Rhinebeck. It was comical and mocking. Clary covered her mouth to block her smile.

The portal opened and the three men quickly stepped through without any further words. When it closed, Jace let out a long whistle. "I can't say I'm going to miss any of them. Dinner anyone?"

There was an overall chorus of agreement and Clary watched as everyone but Jace piled out of the room. He stayed in his seat beside her. "Was this really necessary?" Clary motioned to her bare legs. She was starting to freeze, despite the fire in the room.

"I think so. Rhinebeck can't say that Sebastian was an innocent player after seeing you."

"Thanks, you make me feel so attractive."

"You love me for it."

Clary rolled her eyes. "What was his problem?"

Jace stood up and pulled Clary's chair back for her. He helped her stand up and arrange her crutches. "He's related to Elodie—a cousin or something of the like. I just think he doesn't like having a family name blackened because of us."

"How do you know all of these things?"

"I may have listened in on Maryse and Robert talking last night when they thought I had finally gone to bed."

Clary swatted him lightly on the arm. It caused her to lose her balance and she swayed on the spot before Jace had his arms around her, steadying her again.

"Jace, there's something I have to tell you."

"That I'm the most attractive person you know?"

"I'm trying to be serious," Clary insisted.

"I am too." He had a serious expression on his face.

Clary let out an aggravated noise. "Any other day and I wouldn't mind Jace..." she warned, her temper flaring up.

"You're moving in with your mother."

She turned to look at him, not so angry anymore.

"How did you know?"

"Jocelyn told me." His face hadn't changed from its stony expression. Jace didn't seem upset, but he was good at hiding any emotion.

"I'm going to have curfew again," Clary complained. She wanted to cross her arms, and cursed the crutches for not being able to do so.

Jace smiled broadly. He leaned close to her, his lips almost touching hers. "We'll just have to find a way around that problem, won't we?"

Clary nodded, and looked at his lips. They were very enticing when he held them in his half-smile. "Maybe," she replied, forgetting why she was angry in the first place.

Jace brushed his lips against hers lightly, sending a wave of pleasure through her body.

She kissed him back, wanting nothing more than to be lost in the moment.

"A-hem," someone cleared their throat.

Jace pulled away, looking back over his shoulder. "What is it Izzy?"

Clary looked around Jace to see Isabelle standing with a plate of sandwiches. She held them out to Jace. She was also dressed in fighting gear, her whip obediently curled at her side.

"Demons in Central Park," Isabelle explained.

Jace took one sandwich off the plate and crammed half of it in his mouth. He handed a second one to Clary, and she took it, gratefully. She balanced on her crutches and took a bite.

"No jam?" Jace spoke before he had finished swallowing.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "You have ten minutes and then I'm going to start throwing blades at you," she announced and walked out of the room.

Jace put the sandwich on the table. "I'm not hungry," he announced.

"You should go get ready then," Clary suggested.

"I only need five minutes to do that and I can think of better things to do for the other five."

"Oh, really?" Clary put her bread on the table beside Jace's. "Tell me what's better than eating."

Jace gave her a lop-sided grin and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Better yet, I'll show you."


	18. Epilogue: Merry Happy

_Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments. The plotline is my idea though..._

* * *

Clary only ended up staying with her mother and Luke for three weeks. Three weeks of stolen kisses, whispered promises, and late-night movies on the couch. Hers and Jace's routine had become so mundane that Clary almost forget she was anything but a normal woman—that there weren't monsters lurking in the dark alleys of the city, and the worst she had to fear were a couple of thugs possibly bullying her into giving them her purse. But that would never be the case for her. She was reminded every time Jace answered his cell phone part way through dinner, when he pulled a stele out of his pocket, or when she caught a glimpse of a seraph blade on his belt, tucked away under his jacket. Clary would never forget the blood that ran in her veins—blood strong enough to make the thugs cringe in her presence if she wanted them too.

Still, Clary enjoyed the three weeks she spent away from training, allowing her to relax for a short amount of time. She hadn't realized how tired she was after training intensively for so long. Sleeping in was a treasure, and she took full advantage of it whenever Jace was too busy at the Institute.

This was one of those mornings where she lounged in bed with her sketch pad, doodling freely and without much thought. At one point, she even drew another sketch pad on the last free page of her book. Remembering what she had done two years previously, she pushed her fingers into the willing page and withdrew her hand, a brand new sketch pad coming through the paper.

Clary smiled to herself, proud of the little accomplishment she had just made. It was inexpensive to buy such a thing, but if she was being honest with herself, she liked to be able to do something so out of the ordinary.

There was a soft knocking at the doorframe of her room and Clary looked up. Simon stood in the open space, a small smile on his face, and a parcel tucked under his arm. His shirt looked as if he had picked it up from a pile on the floor without bothering to check if there were any wrinkles. One of his shoes was untied.

"Were you in a hurry to get over here?" Clary was well aware Simon had brought back his new girlfriend from Florida. She hadn't seen much of her best friend since he'd come back to New York.

Simon didn't meet Clary's eyes and shuffled his feet. He was lucky he didn't blush, but Clary could recognize the signs. "She's a little... feisty when I leave. I had to practically run out of the apartment."

"So you still haven't brought her home to your mom."

He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a cough at her comment.

"You're terrible," Clary scolded him. "Does she even know you're a vampire yet?"

"No. I can't figure out how to tell her."

"It's been two years, Simon. She's going to notice eventually. It can't be that bad. I mean, the guys took it pretty well." Clary remembered Simon coming to visit her after he told Eric and the rest of the guys, extremely ecstatic. Their band had been named Night Crawlers for about a week before the vampire angle lost interest and the guys got over Simon being one of the undead.

"Yeah," he said, not committing to anything.

He stayed put in the doorway, still clutching the parcel under his arm.

"What have you got there?" Clary asked, putting aside their conversation about his mother. If he wanted to continue to keep her in the dark, she wasn't going to argue.

Simon walked over to the bed and sat down beside her. He pulled out the parcel and handed it to her. "It's just a small gift I forgot to give you when I got back."

Clary tore into the package, making quick work of the crisp paper. Inside the wrappings, she found a soft, black t-shirt which had the words Bad Ass and Proud written in bright gold letters on the front. She hugged Simon and tugged in on over her camisole. It fit loose, but was more comfortable than any of the clothes Isabelle kept stocked in her closet back at the Institute.

"Jace is either going to hate it or think it's perfect," Clary commented.

Simon chuckled. "He'll love it. You know he gets a kick out of things like that."

"True. So what do we have planned for the afternoon?"

"I was thinking some old cartoons, video games, and comic books. There's a box in the living room that I brought over."

Somewhere between watching Dawn of the Dead and playing Halo, Jace showed up. Clary hadn't noticed him at first, standing in the back corner of the room observing the two of them as Simon decided it was time for him to go back home. She led him out the door and when she turned around, Jace was watching her with an amused expression.

"And when exactly were you going to make yourself known?"

Jace shrugged and moved to stand in front of her. He put a tender hand on her face for a moment. "I was hoping to see your goofy hand shake before I made a sound. Besides, you should have heard me come in."

Clary looked at his arms. His sleeve was pushed up enough for her to make out a Rune on his arm. "How can I hear you come in when you cheat like that?" She pointed at his arm. "And you're quiet enough without any added help."

Again, he shrugged. This time Clary noticed how wet his hair looked in the light of the living room. She reached up a hand and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

"Isn't it a bit cold out to be walking around with wet hair?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied with a sly grin.

"What is it?"

"It's snowing," Jace answered nonchalantly. He kept his hands behind his back.

"What are you hiding?"

"Do you want to know? Or would you rather I showed you?"

Clary sensed he was playing a game with her. "Both."

She regretted her words as soon as they came out of her mouth. Fast as lighting, a large, cold wad of snow broke in the crown of her hair, freezing the skin it melted into. "Jace!" she shrieked.

He was already running out the back door into the yard. His laugher rang out, loud and clear through the open door.

Clary only had a second to pull on her mother's boots over her bare toes and run after him. She looked around carefully, but Jace still managed to throw another snowball at her. The second one landed in the square of her back and she turned around quickly to see him duck behind an overturned table.

Quickly, she bundled up a snowball of her own and held it in one hand. Then she picked up the lid of a garbage can to use as a shield. It went to good use as she made her way over to Jace's hide-out. She managed to block another flying snowball and hurled her own at his blonde hair. He made a disgruntled sound as it hit him in the face.

"Ha!" Clary cried out. "Not so fast there Lightwood!"

She threw the garbage can aside and lunged on top of Jace, still wiping snow out of his eyes. He fell to his back as she landed on top of his chest, keeping him pinned down with her hands and knees. Her breathing was laboured from the cool air, coming out in white puffs, but Clary didn't care. All she could think about was running her hands through Jace's hair and kissing his lips.

As she bent her head down slowly, her hair fell around her shoulders, blocking out everything but Jace's face. A goofy grin stretched across his lips and Clary could see his crooked tooth. His hands came up to her hips, chilled from the snow. His touch sent a wave off gooseflesh up her spine, reminding her of the extreme cold of the winter.

Clary moved her face even closer to his. His scent was all around her, intensified by the melted snow on his face. She realized this was the first time in weeks that they were truly alone together.

Jace must have realized the same thing and reached up to give her a long kiss. He kissed her slowly and deeply, keeping his hands on her hips. When Clary tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away.

"Clary," his voice shook as he spoke. "If you want to continue this, I suggest we take it inside. I won't be of much use if my back is frostbitten."

She hadn't noticed the slight tremor in his body. He was probably just as cold as she was; only her thoughts of the cold had been distracted by his lips. Clary was tempted to kiss him again, disregarding his suggestion. Jace just looked too sexy lying underneath her. When she had tackled him down his shirt had ridden up, exposing his golden stomach, giving her a glimpse of the flat and scarred skin she loved.

"I might take my chances," Clary teased before she stood up.

Jace was at her side moments later and took her hand in his as they walked back into the house. It wasn't until they reached the door that Clary realized why he had taken her hand. Jace pulled her flush against his chest and just as he bent down and kissed her once, a snowball smashed into her hair.

Jace jumped back as she shrieked at the cold of the snow, quickly melting in her hair. He laughed as she danced around the room hopelessly brushing what remaining snow had yet to melt onto the floor.

"JACE!" she yelled, "That was so not funny."

After a long, hot shower, Clary stepped back into her bedroom, wrapped only in a towel. She shut her door and locked it for good measure. Her mother may have been gone for the week, but the simplicity of a locked door made her feel like she was completely secluded from the world.

Jace waited on her bed, lounging on it with her sketchpad. She wouldn't let Jace in the shower with her after his snowball stunt. As much as the possibility of sharing a shower tempted her, Clary was going to make him sit this one out as punishment.

He stared intently at a page, and didn't notice her come in. She sat beside him and looked at the picture. It was the one she was working on earlier in her new sketch book. Clary had the urge to snatch it out of his fingers like she had done so many times before, but the look on his face stopped her. He looked serious, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"You really are talented," he told her quietly.

Clary had thought she was being silent.

"The Clave doesn't know you can pull objects out of paper, do they?"

Clary shook her head. "I'd never tell them that. Who knows what kind of trouble I could get into if they knew?"

Jace nodded. He put the sketch book back on the table and held his arms out to her.

She gladly let him embrace her. Being wrapped up in his arms was the most comfortable and natural thing to her. His scent was stronger, with his damp clothes and Clary loved how it filled the room. The only problem was that he was still trembling from the cold.

"Do you want to take your shirt off? You must be freezing."

"Real men don't get cold," Jace answered.

"You're a real man?" Clary couldn't help but tease.

"Are you trying to bait me into something? I'm not naive."

She let out a snort at his comment. "Far from it."

Jace tapped a finger against her nose. "I think I'm rubbing off on you. It's alluring." He leaned in and kissed her nose this time.

Clary tilted her head up and caught his lips before he could pull back. It felt just as sensual as the kiss outside and as she opened up her mouth to his, she knew she wouldn't be able to slow down from here. Their tongues met and danced in their familiar way.

She moved her hands from her lap to his hair—she always loved to grab hold of his curls. No matter what he did, they were always soft.

Jace must have liked it because he growled in his throat as Clary pulled on it roughly. His hands took a firm grip on her hips, where he liked to hold her most, and squeezed. Next, he moved one of his hands slowly up the towel, still tightly wound around her body. When he got to her bare skin, he traced light patterns on her collarbone.

The slow torture began to be too much for Clary. She groaned as his lips left hers and traveled down to her chin, her neck, her collarbone, and stopped where the towel covered the rest of her over heated skin.

Clary let her hands move down onto his shoulders, dropping them further to feel the strong muscles of his back through his damp sweater. There was still a tremor coming from his body, only she suspected it was no longer because of the cold. Her skin began to feel flushed from the intensity of their closeness and the kisses they shared. She could only assume Jace felt the same.

It seemed likely as Clary moved her hands down to the hem of his shirt and played with the skin just above the his pants. She traced a long scar with her thumb, then with the pads of her fingers before she tugged at his shirt and had him out of it.

Before she could say anything, Jace pulled her towel and had it pooled at her hips. For a fleeting second she had to urge to cross her arms over her chest. Then she saw the look in Jace's eyes and knew that her brief flash of insecurity was pointless. He had seen her like this countless times and there was nothing short of awe in the way her looked at her.

For a while, they sat on her bed openly staring at each other. Clary took in his broad chest and smooth stomach, covered in the scars that were as much a part of his body as they were of his personality. She knew that it was only a matter of time before her body would resemble his in at least a small way. Perhaps she wouldn't catch up to the amount of scars that he now had, but she was already adorned with many of her own.

Much in the same way Clary had felt the scars on Jace, he did the same to her. His fingers lightly traced up and down both arms, then her chest, avoiding the places she wanted him to touch most, and stopped at her flat stomach. His fingers spread out over her pale skin and stayed there a moment longer.

He kissed her again, only it was sweet and unrushed. His lips were both soft and firm against hers, and when she ran her tongue over his bottom lip, he opened to her. They continued to kiss, only their faces touching, the rest of their bodies stilled on the bed.

Clary thought she was going to burst from anticipation when Jace put a hand on her waist and quickly snaked it up to one of her breasts. Her nipple was already painfully hard as he twisted it between his thumb and finger, and she let out a loud moan when he moved onto the other nipple.

She raked her nails over his chest and abdomen, feeling the muscles in his stomach constrict from her motions. Clary could also feel the laboured rise and fall of his chest as they both struggled for breath.

A fine sheen of sweat covered both their bodies by the time Jace had repositioned them to lying on her bed. Clary helped him take off his pants then his shiny black boxers, happy to be rid of them. She should have been surprised at how fully erect he already was, but she knew from experience that it didn't take much to get Jace in the mood.

She spread her legs, making room for Jace to fit between them. Clary was becoming uncomfortable with an ache that only he was able to satisfy.

He teased, running his fingers lightly over her still unblemished thighs. She let out a frustrated sigh.

"Jace," she could only whisper, her voice was failing as he kissed the base of her throat.

"Mmh...?" Jace responded.

"Don't make me beg," she finally got the words out of her mouth.

Jace pulled his face away from her body and looked down at her. "But I like it. I love it when you moan my name."

Clary swatted his chest in faked annoyance. "Cocky bastard."

He winked and kissed her softly. "Only for you."

Clary moved a hand to the small of his back and helped guide him into her. She could feel the large size of him filling her up, happy with how perfect they always fit together.

Jace began a slow, almost lazy rocking within her. It allowed him to kiss her again. He bit down on her lower lip, pulling it with his teeth before letting it go and moving his mouth to her temple.

Clary moved one leg up and over his hip, needing a different angle. She wanted Jace in as far as possible, and hooked her other leg up, connecting her feet at her ankles. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she used her strength to pull her hips up to meet his slow thrusts. She sped her pace, forcing Jace to catch up.

"Impatient?" Jace panted out.

Clary couldn't answer. Her chest was already struggling to bring in enough oxygen for her lungs and her core burned, aching for a release.

But she didn't want to let go so fast, so she let her legs drop back down onto the mattress. She kept her knees bent, thrusting her hips up to continue to match Jace.

He didn't object to her slight change in position and grabbed the skin just below her breasts. For once, he didn't hold her in a tight grasp; instead he seemed to be massaging the skin with his calloused hands.

Clary didn't think it was possible, but her nipples felt even harder than before. She grabbed a fist full of her own hair with each hand before moving her fingers to capture her nipples. It helped, as she fondled herself.

Again, Jace kissed her on the mouth. Clary moved her hands from herself to his back, quickly moving them to his buttocks and squeezing. He moaned into her mouth and arched his back. His slight change in position drove Clary right over the edge and her release came at a surprise to her. Taking over all her senses, she rode it out, only half aware of Jace joining her in ecstasy.

She felt a bit of his release dripping down her thigh as Jace pulled out and rolled beside her. There wasn't much room on the bed for the two of them, so Clary ended up lying half on top of him as they caught their breaths.

"I had this idea," Clary ventured after a long while. She kept her face down, unable to look him in the eye.

"Oh?"

She couldn't help the flush that stained her cheeks and chest.

"Clary, you're blushing and you haven't even told me anything."

Shaking her head, she replied, "Never mind. It was stupid."

Jace put a hand on her chin and turned her face to his. "Please?" His eyes shimmered in a way only Jace knew how to do. Clary compared it to looking into the face of an irresistible puppy. She really was putty in his hands.

Letting out a long sigh, she gave him her idea. "I was walking by this retro store yesterday and I just had this idea for us. It's . . . well, you see... I thought we could play a fun sort of game. Role play," she breathed out the last word, looking up at the ceiling. There was no way she wanted to see Jace's face as he considered what she said.

"Shall I call myself Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein? I think it's quite catchy."

Clary glanced at his face. It was straight. "I think you've exhausted that name."

"What? I haven't even been able to use it. I keep getting turned down." Jace faked a hurt look.

"There's a reason," Clary quipped back, smiling.

Jace sat up and got off the bed. She watched as he pulled on his black boxers and his sweater.

"Are you seriously insulted? I thought your ego could handle worse."

"Not that my body isn't something to gawk at, but we need to start packing up your things."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

Jace tilted his head to the side, considering her question. "Didn't I mention it?"

"Mention what?" Clary ventured.

Smiling, Jace took a step towards the bed and leaned into her. "Maryse said you could come back. Your training schedule should begin today."

"Really?" Clary couldn't keep the reservation from her voice. She had mixed emotions about getting back into training. Even though she had talked to Jace on numerous accounts about her doubts as a Shadowhunter, he always assured her that being kidnapped happened to the best of them. Not that he ever brought up being kidnapped himself. Clary figured it was a wound he was never going to fully heal from, and left him to deal with it in his own way. If he wanted to talk about it, she would wait.

"You're not excited," he said as a statement.

Clary let out a long sigh. "I'm just nervous."

"About what?"

"Getting my ass kicked, I suppose."

"You're a fire cracker. There is no way you would get your ass kicked. Besides, it's only been a few weeks, not months or years. You're in perfect shape. I think in the last half hour you made that pretty clear. "

"You're right," Clary sighed, too tired to feel embarrassed.

"Aren't I always?"

Clary couldn't help but laugh. "Perhaps, but don't let that idea get to your pretty head."

"Too late!" Jace closed the small space between them and rolled back onto Clary, covering her body with his. He kept himself propped up by his arms so he could look down on her. "But I think we do have a little more time before the others start wondering why it's taken me so long to come and collect you."

"Okay," Clary agreed. "But you're going to have to take off that sweater again. And those boxers." She snuck her hands under the hem of his shirt, lifting the material up and over his shoulders. When he was bare-chested she wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him down onto her. As he kissed her, she knew they'd never make it anywhere near on time. The others were just going to have to wait.

_fin._


End file.
